


Watch Me Burn

by TOCAD



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Washington Capitals, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TOCAD/pseuds/TOCAD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brooks sighed into his beer as he yet again watched Mike with some blond at the other end of the bar. He knew Mike didn't know how he felt, but that didn’t mean seeing it didn’t make him sick. He missed when Mike had a girlfriend, because at least then he didn’t have to look at what he was faced with here.

The bar wasn’t the biggest problem that faced Brooks anyway. It was only a matter of time until Mike would end up in their room with the girl. He didn’t even want to think about what that involved. It was his own stupid fault that he was in this position anyway. Karma for being selfish, perhaps? The whole reason he roomed with Mike now was because he wanted to be closer to him. He had practically begged Nicklas to switch with him. Something he regretted since Mike's breakup.

Since Carol left, Mike had been bringing back women on the road and it had gotten old. Not only was it gross to hear people having sex one bed away, but to have your best friend- who you were incurably in love with, fucking some puck bunny who couldn’t help but tell him how big his cock was every two seconds, well, it fucking sucked. This was the third and final day of a long road trip and Mike hadn’t found the time to pick someone up yet. Brooks would be relieved, had Mike not used, "I don't know how you do it, Brooksie. I'm fucking hard as a rock," as small talk as they got to the bar.

Brooks had been drinking as much as he the bartender would give him, which turned out to be more than it should have been. Within seconds, the bartender had placed another shot glass in front of him. "Jose Cuervo is my hero," Brooks mumbled to himself.

He drank it down, cursing his bright idea of being closer to a man who didn't love him back. He knew Mike had slept around when he wasn't seeing anyone, but to be there and to have him not even wonder for a split second if it bothered his roommate. How had Nicklas put up with it? Not that Nicklas was some kind of saint, but Brooks didn't know how much more he could take.

Everyone around him was getting laid and he had nothing but his fist and a memory of a way-too drunk night in Hershey when he got a kiss from his crush.

He could get girls. He had gotten girls, but it always felt dirty. No matter how much he wished it, no woman would be able to make him cum like a man could. No man could make him feel like he wished Mike would, either. Even if they could, it wasn’t like he could bring a guy back to the hotel. Or home. He was trapped.

Brooks stared at the empty shot glass, he held it out and started singing. "Jose, Jose, Jo-se, my man," he sang as his glass was filled once again. Brooks coughed, choking on his drink when a voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "You okay, Brooks?"

"'m fine," Brooks answered with a slur as he tried to focus on Knuble. "'ve had a bit of drinks," he answered honestly after Knuble didn't believe him.

"A bit of drinks? Sounds more like a lot of drinks. You heading up soon?" Knuble asked, like the worried father he was.

Brooks nodded and looked down at his hands. "Prolly should, not doing much good down here, am I?" he laughed sarcastically.

Knuble still looked worried, but nodded his head. "Get some sleep, Brooks. Drink some water before you sleep, alright?"

"Fine, dad," Brooks snapped. He felt bad immediately after. Knuble didn't deserve that, if anything he deserved a thank you and a hug or some shit. "Sorry."

"It's alright. It can be tough, I know," Knuble said.

Like you have any idea how tough it is for me right now, Brooks thought. "I'mma going to bed now. Tired," Brooks said as he realized he was just getting pissed.

"Alright. It's probably a good idea. See you tomorrow," Knuble said and gave Brooks a pat on the shoulder. He could tell Brooks was having a hard time.

"Yeah," Brooks said, before leaving the bar to the elevator.

As soon as he got to the room, he pounced on his bed and slid out of his jeans and shirt. He sighed deeply and tossed and turned a couple times before he felt the nagging in his groin. "Fuckin' Mike," he huffed out as he thought about Mike, his tongue poking out when he closed his eyes to kiss that stupid chick. He was so sexy when he did that. He thought about her hand, how he wished it was his that was playing with the belt loops on Mike’s jeans.

Thinking about all this had gotten him half-hard and he hadn’t even noticed his hand slipping under the waistband of his briefs. He grunted at the friction on the back of his hand and pulled off his underwear. The lock made a beep, so he'd have enough time to pull the blankets over and fake sleep if Mike came back, not that he would notice Brooks there.

Brooks felt a little weird just jerking himself off in an empty room. Not that he needed people, but he usually saved this for the bathroom or his house. He turned on his laptop and logged onto a gay porn site and found a video of a slightly-chubby man with thick, black hair who was fucking the snot out of a slim ginger-haired guy by a pool. Purely by coincidence, of course.

It wasn't that good, but it wasn't over produced and he hadn’t really been using the visuals. He just needed background noise and atmosphere so it wouldn’t be angry jerking off. He laid back and closed his eyes and thought about Mike and how they would be together. His nice, juicy lips and big, strong arms.

 _He pictured Mike coming in the room with him, slamming him roughly against the wall and kissing him with so much passion and need. Mike tearing his shirt off and then slamming into him, filling him. Sucking and biting his nipples, scratching and pulling his at his hair. Brooks shivered as he thumbed the head of his swollen dick_.

"Fuck, Mike," Brooks grunted again as he thrust into his hand and imagined it was Mike's hand doing it for him. He had gotten close, breath uneven as he stroked rapidly when he heard that fucking beep.

Lightning fast, he jumped up and closed his laptop and pulled the blanket over his naked, sweaty body and closed his eyes as he willed his cock to go down.

"Come on, baby. Let me show you just how nice it is," Mike said, once again not alone. A woman's voice followed. "Oh yeah, Greenie, you gonna feed me your cock?" she asked and Brooks could have thrown up. Did they actually like that talk?

Brooks stayed hard, which was completely his body's response. The next thing he knew, some articles of clothing had been shed and Mike started to talk about going down on her. She was a fucking puck bunny, who the fuck went down on a puck bunny? Nevertheless, Brooks had to listen to it.

He wasn't sure what was worse, the sound of the moans or their need to commentate the whole process. It actually sickened him. Brooks had accidently let out a groan when Mike's lady friend had started to sound like an angry chihuahua.

The moaning stopped and there was some rustling around before any more talking. "You have a fucking roommate?" the woman said. "Don't worry about it, Brooks is cool," Mike countered. Brooks wasn't sure how he felt that Mike considered it fine that they have sex in front of him. Wasn’t he the one always saying Bros before hoes?

"I'm not having sex with your fucking teammate right there. What do you think I am, some kind of slut?" She said. 'Yes' Brooks answered to himself, where Mike had actually answered, "Of course not, baby. I just meant- he's sleeping, right?"

After they argued for a few minutes, Mike wasn't able to seduce her into live entertainment and she left. Mike let out an angered sigh as he fell to his bed. Brooks listened intently for a couple seconds before he heard the sure sound of Mike taking care of himself.

There was no light in the room, but the soft glow from under the door. Brooks' cock had gotten almost painful and it didn’t sound like Mike would be asleep anytime soon. Pencil that in to the half-bottle of Tequila Brooks drank and before he knew it, he had started walking towards Mike’s bed. The sudden lack of shuffling led Brooks to know Mike thought he was going to the bathroom or something. At least he had the decency to care that much.

Instead of the bathroom, which he really should have done, he slipped into bed beside Mike. Brooks had forgotten he was naked, and probably would have thought this a little more clearly if he had remembered. He felt Mike stiffen and hold his breath.

Brooks had never found the courage to approach the subject with Mike, but he was pretty sure what the outcome would have been. However, Brooks had been working on plain stupidity. "It's okay, baby. Brooks is cool," Brooks mocked with a noticeable slur into Mike's ear. He was pressing against Mike's body and reaching his arm down Mike's, grasping his cock. Brooks shivered at finally getting to hold Mike in his hand.

Brooks breathed Mike in as he lay against Mike's body and pushed against it to get friction as he stroked Mike. In Brooks' mind, it was going perfect and his dreams were coming true. In reality though, things happened much faster, and much less perfect.

"What the fuck? Brooks, are you sleeping?" Mike asked. That would be an interesting story. Unfortunately, Brooks didn't catch the repulsion in Mike's voice and he commented back. "I'm whatever you want, baby," Brooks said in a fit of word-vomit.

"Brooks get the fuck off me! You're drunk," Mike repeated as he got Brooks' hand off his dick.

"Like she was sober," Brooks mumbled.

"What?" Mike asked as he stepped off the bed and away from Brooks.

"I said, when do I get to suck on your nice, big cock? Huh?" Brooks yelled. "When do I get you inside me, fucking me senseless like one of those girls?" he added.

Mike was at a loss for words. Brooks was drunk, that much had been clear. What wasn't clear was how Brooks had all of a sudden started to talk about his dick like he was-- "You're gay?"

"Bing-fucking-o, Mike. What gave it away, me trying to suck you off? I'll still do it, you know. I'll let you fuck me. Forget that chick, Mike. I can make you cum so hard you'll see purple," Brooks said, still practically yelling. Mike got even more worried. Brooks was acting weird, almost angry.

Brooks got up from the bed and wrapped himself around Mike, this time he faced him and pressed his groin into Mike’s leg. "Feel that, Mikey? That's all because of you. I need you, need your cock," he said, fondling Mike's dick again. Mike was trying not to react, so he stepped away and gave Brooks a little shove.

"You're drunk, Brooks. You need to go to sleep, that's what you need," Mike said as he tried to be reassuring.

"You know what? Fuck you, Mike. You don't want me, be man enough to tell me. Don't fucking sugar coat it, you fucking tease," Brooks yelled.

"Brooks, I don't even know-" Mike started, but Brooks cut him off.

"Don't even bother, Mike. I'm fucking out of your hair. I'll tell Nicky he can have his roommate back, you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore," Brooks said, as he glared at Mike before he pulled on his clothes.

Mike tried to say something, get Brooks to calm down, but he was already out the door.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

Mike's head was pounding when he woke up. He was alone, which meant Brooks had either not come back or left early to avoid him, not that Mike could blame him. 

Mike gathered his things and then showered, but all he could think about was Brooks. How had he never known he was gay? Brooks was his best friend for years, how do you not notice something like that? Was Mike that much of an asshole, or was Brooks good at hiding it? 

Maybe Brooks didn't hide it? Maybe he wasn't gay? He'd taken girls home, had girlfriends, Mike saw for himself. They were few and far between, but the guy was from Saskatchewan, it's not like Calgary there. 

Mike got out of the shower and quickly dressed, brushed his teeth and popped an Advil. He went down stairs, expecting to see Brooks looking like hell waiting for him to check in the key cards. Instead, he was greeted by an angry looking coach and three teammates. 

"Where's Brooks?" Bruce asked, seeing Mike with two keys. 

"I don't know, I guess he roomed with someone else last night," Mike answered with a shrug. Nobody really needed to know exactly what happened last night. "He's not down yet?" Mike asked. He was usually nagging on Mike for being too slow, but maybe he was too hung over and slept in.

"No, he's usually down by now. Knuble said he didn't look too good last night, said he sent him to your room before you left the bar. Was he there at all?" Bruce asked.

Mike stopped to think for a second. How could he explain what happened without saying what happened. "Yeah, when I got there he was in bed, but he got up and we kind of got into an argument and he left. I figured he just bunked with someone else," Mike answered, innocently enough. 

"You got into an argument with Brooks?" Bruce asked, but turned away before Mike could answer. 

So Brooks was late, that didn't mean anything. He was human, right? The Alex's weren't down, Nicky wasn't down. He probably stayed with Nicky, Nicky was a great roommate. 

The theory rested well in Mike's mind as he waited in the lobby as guys started coming down, but no Brooks. He was okay until Nicky came down alone. "Did Brooks stay with you last night?" Mike asked, walking over to Nicklas. 

"No, why? He's your roommate, right?" Nicklas asked. 

"Yeah. We kind of got into an argument, thought he might've stayed with you," Mike explained. 

Nicklas looked a little worried, but didn't ask Mike what it was about. "He'll be down, probably just slept in," Nicky offered before taking a seat. 

"Okay guys, bus is here so start loading up while we wait for the rest of the guys," Bruce said, coming into the lobby. 

There were only a few guys left in the hotel when Brooks walked on, looking like absolute shit. Following closely behind Brooks was Marcus, who didn't look as bad, but not good either, Mike thought. At least he knew where he stayed. Probably kept the poor guy up all night from the looks of him.

"Marcus, can I sit alone?" Mike's attention taken over by the tone Brooks held towards his teammate. Marcus looked slightly hurt, but did as he was told, sitting beside an already passed out Backstrom. Did nobody on this team sleep well?

"You didn't have to take it out on him because you can't hold your alcohol," Alex teased from across the row. 

Mike watched before him as his captain and best friend started to argue quite loudly. This got Sasha yelling at Alex in Russian, probably to shut up and Brads calling Brooks a pussy for not manning up with his hangover. Pretty soon, almost the whole bus was an uncontrollable fury of rage against each other. 

Mike couldn't help but feel a bit responsible. It's not like he caused it directly, or that it wasn't bound to happen, but he probably shouldn't have let Brooks leave last night. Not that he had a choice, the man was wasted. 

"Alright, shut the fuck up, everybody. I don't care what the fuck you are talking about, but please just hold off until we get back to fucking Washington and kill each other on your own fucking time, okay?" Bruce yelled from up front. The bus grew silent and stayed that way the rest of the ride, and the flight home. 

\--- ---- ---

Mike unpacked his stuff, but did little else before heading back out the door. He wasn't going to talk to Brooks about the other night, but after seeing him snap at Marcus it was probably a good idea. 

He thought about what he could say, but he'd just have to wing it. Brooks was drunk last time they spoke, and they didn't really speak either. Brooks came on to him. Not only came on to him, but he technically assaulted him. Not that Mike would call it that, but Brooks grabbed him, tried to have sex with him. Brooks. 

Mike shook his head and turned on the radio. He didn't need to think about that. What's done is done, but he needed to talk to Brooks and sort this out. 

He got to the door and moments later, it was slammed in his face. "Brooks, let me in! We need to talk, alright? Just give me a minute and I'll leave," Mike yelled. 

The door opened and Mike was met with Brooks' unimpressed glare before he stepped aside to let him in. "What do you want?" Brooks asked, arms crossed. 

"I want to know what happened," Mike answered, simply enough. 

"Um, you mean where you took yet another girl to our hotel room so you could fuck her without asking me if I cared; your plans go ruined and I tried to suck your cock and let you fuck me, but you told me to fuck off instead? That?" Brooks said with a painfully sarcastic tone. 

"Brooks, I don't care if you're gay or if you were just drunk, but I-" Mike started, but Brooks cut him off with a laugh.

"You actually think straight guys get drunk and try to fuck other guys?" Brooks laughed again. "No, Mike, they don't. Sorry to burst your bubble, but yeah, I'm gay. I'm also quite tired and hung the fuck over, so if you could please save your dislike for my personal preferences for a little later, I want to get some fucking sleep," Brooks said, impatiently. 

"Can we just talk for a second?" Mike asked angrily. 

"What, you want to tell me off some more? Fine, I'm a faggot fucking cocksucker, I'm in fucking love with you and yeah, I tried to suck your cock. And in case you're wondering, I'm still willing, just not right now, so please fuck off."

"After the way you acted, or should I say acting, I don't think it should wait, Brooks. I care about you, I just don't know what happened to you last night," Mike said, calming his voice. 

"And I'm the fucked up one? I got sick of seeing you fuck cheap chicks on the road, alright? It finally got to me. I could handle a girlfriend, but seeing you fuck random woman with me in the room, telling me about it after, yeah, I guess it got fucking old," Brooks raised his voice. 

He walked closer to Mike and lowered his voice, "You really want to know what happened last night? I drank about half a bottle of Tequila while watching you practically go at it with your little friend at the bar. When I finally had enough, I went upstairs. You want to know what I did there, before you came in? I took off my clothes and closed my eyes, thinking about you. You with me, taking me, fucking me," Brooks said, taking a small step closer again. "And then you came in, with her and I stayed still, trying not to fucking kill myself while you two went at it. When she left, I figured why not? Might not be love, but at least I'll get to feel you inside me," Brooks practically whispered the last part, staring into Mike's eyes. 

"Too bad you told me to fuck off, eh? Too bad it wasn't you fucking me last night, hm? You want to head upstairs, fuck the shit out of me before you go crying your way home? We could do it on the couch or right here on the fucking floor, if that'd be better for your ultra-macho ego. Wouldn't want someone thinking you give a fuck about me, right?" Brooks said, gritting his teeth as he pushed Mike closer to the wall. 

"Are you drunk?" Mike asked, a serious question as the smell of alcohol tumbled off Brooks' breath. "It's not even noon," he added as Brooks just kept walking him into the wall. 

"Yeah, well I figured shame and depression don't really have a clock, so why should drinking?" Brooks bit back. 

"What are you doing to yourself? Where is this coming from because it can't all be from last night," Mike asked, worried about his friend. 

"Are you really that dumb? I. FUCKING. LOVE. YOU. Tell me where this doesn't include me being depressed because so far, we're not together and it's not really working out for me," Brooks snapped.

"You love me?" Mike asked. This conversation was going in a totally new direction that he wasn't sure how to deal with. How could Brooks love him? "Since when?"

Brooks rolled his eyes. "That night in Hershey," he answered reluctantly.

"Hershey? What are you talking about, what night?" Mike asked, confused. 

"That fucking party where you kissed me," Brooks answered. "I only liked you before that, it's been hell ever since," he confessed.

"When did I kiss you? I honestly don't remember, Brooks," Mike admitted. He really had no clue what Brooks was talking about. He just wished Brooks was being more reasonable right now.

"Alright, whatever you say, Mike. Can you just fuck off please? I said I don't want to talk right now, so if you're not going to come with me, can I at least go to sleep now?"

Mike sighed. "Seeing as you're not talking to me like a human being, I guess I'll go," he said, letting Brooks know he didn't approve. 

"Oh, fuck off you righteous prick. Like you're all perfect and shit? At least I can admit I'm a fuck up," Brooks yelled, glaring at Mike before he shut the door. 

Mike walked to his car more upset than he would like to admit. Or more upset than he would have liked. He figured Brooks wouldn't be a bucket full of rainbows this morning, but he didn't prepare himself for what had just happened. How could he have? He just found out his best friend of the past eight years has been in love with him for possibly the past seven. What was he supposed to do with that?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

After Mike left, Brooks sat down with a bottle, hating everything once again. Who the fuck did Mike think he was, showing up like that. "I want to know what happened," what a dick. Like he couldn't remember what the fuck happened. Did he really have to rub it in?

The more he sat, the more he drank. The more he drank, the more pissed off he got. Brooks decided to end the vicious cycle of drinking and being angry by getting into his car and driving.

He knew where he was going, but he wasn't ready to admit it to himself. For now, he was good enough blaming himself for driving intoxicated. He could hate himself in the morning for what he was going to do.

He parked the car and walked up to the house and knocked on the door. As he waited, he contemplated just turning and leaving. Neither of them needed this. He was about to bolt when the front light turned on and the door opened. Fuck.

"Brooks?" Marcus answered the door.

"Um, sorry. I don't know why I came here, I'm just going to go," Brooks slurred. Perhaps he was a bit more drunk than he thought.

"No, it's okay," Marcus said. "Have you been drinking?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. I got into an argument with someone. I'll be fine, I'll just go home," Brooks answered, still slurring.

"You drove? Brooks, come in. I'm not letting you drive home drunk, it was dumb of you to drive anywhere," Marcus scolded.

"I know, I'm an idiot. I'm a stupid fucking faggot idiot. I should go drive into something equally useless or something," Brooks said, wanting to slap himself for saying that. What the fuck was he trying to do, make the kid cry?

"Get in here," Marcus said, pulling Brooks inside. "Don't ever fucking talk like that again or _I_ might kill you. What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked angrily.

"You're really cute when you're pissed off at me. Your eyes get all serious and passionate, just like you want to devour me. Do you, Marcus?" Brooks asked.

"You pretty much went from saying you should kill yourself to asking me if I want to fuck you. Even if I wanted to, you're shitfaced," Marcus answered, taking a step back from Brooks.

"Didn't stop you last night," Brooks said. "I mean, sure it was on the road, but I'm in the same fucking boat right now. I'm fucking heart broken and depressed, could use a nice guy like you, you know?"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "I was drunk too or I wouldn't have done it," he said.

"Okay, then let me leave. I'm going to get laid one way or another, so if you dont' mind letting me go," Brooks said, walking towards the door.

"Fuck off," Marcus yelled. Brooks turned, surprised. He couldn't think if he had ever heard him actually swear with anger. "You're not going anywhere, Brooks. Give me your keys," he said, blocking the door.

"Fuck you, I'm keeping my fucking keys thank you very much," Brooks countered.

Marcus huffed, stepped forward and kissed Brooks. "Come on, baby," Brooks said, making his way inside Marcus' home.

Brooks watched Marcus follow him, eyes glazed slightly and looking a fine mixture of confused and turned on. Brooks backed his way into Marcus' bed room and smirked as he peeled off his shirt and hopped on the bed. "I ever tell you how hot dark haired Swedes are?" Brooks said without thinking. His mind tends to go on auto pilot when he drinks. Not always a good thing.

"No, but I guess that answers why you didn't go to Nicky's," Marcus said sarcastically.

Brooks shook his head. "Boy's too straight, I'd have a better chance at sleeping with Ovi," Brooks laughed.

"You've slept with him?" Marcus asked, undoing his fly.

Brooks laughed. "Fuck no, but it really wouldn't surprise me if he'd take a little cock once in a while. Well, at least give it," he shrugged.

Marcus laughed a little at the thought. "Why me though?" he asked.

"I know you like guys and I didn't think you'd say no," Brooks answered simply.

"So I'm just a fuck because you couldn't get who you want?" Marcus asked.

"No, I couldn't get who I want because he's a fucking asshole. I came to you because you're better than that. You're better than someone who thinks I'm just a stupid faggot."

Marcus nodded, ending the conversation as he crawled on to the bed. He kissed Brooks' bare chest. "You left your pants on," he said, letting his hands take care of the pants issue.

"I love watching you take them off, you do it with so much feeling,"

Marcus blushed, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor.

"Marcus, I'm naked," Brooks whispered quietly before laughing loudly. "Hey, want me to suck your cock?" he asked, changing his tone.

"Um, okay," Marcus answered. Before he could say anything else, Brooks pushed him down on the bed and found his dick.

Brooks looked up at Marcus, who was staring down at him, looking half worried. He winked at Marcus before lightly licking up the side. They both shivered as Brooks' tongue padded around the tip.

It didn't take long for Brooks to take the whole length in his mouth, but Marcus would soon find out Brooks was far from an amateur when it came to blowjobs.

He stroked Marcus' cock as he made his way to his balls, tonguing and sucking them, driving Marcus crazy. "Oh my god, Brooks. That's-" Marcus started, but choked back a moan when Brooks bit his thigh, shushing him as he kissed his way back up Marcus' body.

"I think you should fuck me now," Brooks said, teasing Marcus' nipple with his teeth, then his tongue.

"Yeah," Marcus said, changing positions and making his way down Brooks' body, stopping at his cock to give it a little suck.

"You're so fucking sexy," Brooks moaned out, becoming, in his mind, no better than one of Mike's hotel sluts.

Marcus continued to work on Brooks' cock as he got him ready. When Brooks started squirming, Marcus stopped and grabbed lube and a condom.

Brooks smiled at him as he got himself ready. Marcus really was beautiful. He was about to think about Mike when he felt Marcus' hand on his thigh. "Ready?" Marcus asked, making Brooks laugh. "I'm always ready," Brooks answered.

So, Brooks wasn't winning any cool points, but none of that mattered as Marcus moved his leg and slowly pushed inside him.

Marcus was big, bigger than Mike, but despite size and ability- he was quite good- the fact that he wasn't Mike sucked. However, Mike or not, it didn't take him too long to get lost in the feeling of having someone inside you, beside you, kissing you.

Brooks started meeting Marcus' thrusts and biting his lip. After a while, they changed positions, moving slightly to get a better angle as Marcus' thrusts got faster and deeper, driving Brooks wild.

There was little better than having a hockey players aggression in bed. The power and stamina couldn't be matched. Brooks felt himself getting close as Marcus pulled him down to bite and kiss at Brooks' jaw. "Not gonna last long," Marcus moaned in Brooks' ear, "So fucking good, so-" Marcus was saying, but switched to Swedish, so Brooks couldn't understand and frankly Brooks didn't care what he was saying at this point, it wasn't getting through anyway.

Brooks rotated between closing his eyes and staring at the blank ceiling, overcome with sensation. His breathing got sporadic as his mind started going blank as Marcus hit just the right spot with just the right amount of pressure.

"Ah, fuck," Brooks moaned, "Uhh fuck Mike," Brooks groaned again. His eyes opened at the realization he just said Mike's name, but luckily Marcus was too preoccupied to notice. "Fuck me," he recovered just as breathlessly as before.

His mind went blank moments later, when Marcus groaned loudly as his body took over, jolting his nerves through his orgasm, sparking Brooks' as well. Brooks bit his lip, begging himself to not say Mike's name.

When they came down, Brooks kept his eyes closed for a couple more seconds as they caught their breath and Marcus pulled out. Brooks took a Kleenex from the table and cleaned himself off and tried to get up, but Marcus had other ideas.

"You're not getting in that fucking car," Marcus said, no hint of humor in his voice.

"As you wish, master," Brooks mocked in a pissed off tone. He rolled over facing the wall and pulled up the covers.

++++++ ++++++++ ++++++++

Brooks woke up with searing pain and nausea, debating throwing up where he was or being courteous and trying for the bath room. He tried to get up, but landed on the floor and quickly found a garbage basket to empty the contents of his stomach.

Feeling like death, he looked at the clock, which wasn't his, and noticed he had only an hour to get to practice. It had to be on pretty much the only non-optional day too. Any other fucking day would've been fine.

He walked around to find his clothes and put them on. Taking his keys, he headed down stairs where he found Marcus eating a muffin. "Morning," Marcus said softly, holding out a muffin for Brooks.

"Thanks," Brooks said, taking the muffin. He was just going to leave, but watching Marcus sit at the counter alone made him kind of sad, so he sat down beside him.

"We have to leave soon, are you going back to your place?" Marcus asked.

Brooks shrugged. "No point, I changed when I got home so it won’t matter."

Marcus nodded. "Coffee then?" he asked, getting up and taking two mugs. He came back and passed one to Brooks. 

Brooks drank his coffee without saying much to Marcus. He wanted to leave, probably should've taken the chance to go back and get changed. He glanced at the clock and cleared his throat. "I think I should go now, see you at the rink?" Brooks said, breaking the silence.

Marcus smiled. "Yeah, I think I'm going to leave now, too," he replied, putting the mugs in the sink.

Brooks nodded and left, getting into his car and driving off, hoping to get to the rink a couple minutes before Marcus. To avoid suspicion.

Unfortunately, just seconds after he got out of his car, Marcus was pulling in. Brooks didn't wait for him to head inside. He was still feeling like shit and just wanted the day to be over.

When they got out on the ice, Brooks did the drills with as much effort he felt wouldn't kill him, which wasn't much. He was squeezing by and as long as Bruce didn't get on his case, he really couldn't give a fuck.

What was really starting to get on his nerves, though, was Marcus. He was on the second line, as usual, only now so was Mike- on the second defensive line. It wasn't a big deal at first. Bruce does what he wants, but when Brooks looked over, Marcus was talking to Mike and they were both laughing and goofing around.

He tried not to let it bother him, while also trying to think if he had said anything to Marcus about Mike. He knew that aside from the slip of his name last night, there hadn't been any mention, but he couldn't be sure about the night before. Either way, couldn't Marcus just leave the guy alone? Mike didn't like to be bothered during practice.

Brooks minded his own business, for the most part just sending quick glares at the two. How could Marcus be flirting with Mike? How could Mike not notice or stop it?

"You alright, Brooksie?" Knuble jolted Brooks from his glaring.

"Yeah, just a little hung over, that's all," Brooks answered.

Knuble nodded and pat him on the back. "Take care of yourself, alright?" he said, skating away.

Brooks went back to doing the drills, ignoring the two idiots trying to ruin his day. Suddenly Marcus skated over to him and asked him to practice face-offs with him. Brooks shrugged, as long as he was away from Mike, getting a little work on puck drops couldn't hurt, right?

That was his thought until Marcus turned and waived, followed by Mike skating over to them. "Will you drop the puck for us?" Marcus asked with a small smile and Brooks could kill him. Being in the same rink wasn't enough, he had to bring it right in front of his face?

Mike shrugged and picked up couple pucks before skating to a faceoff zone. Technically, there was no need to move, but the fact that Mike felt the need to move was one of the many things Brooks was in love with. It was going to be a long day.

Brooks won the first few, giving tips on how Marcus could block his technique. He had a few other tricks up his sleeve, so there was no harm in giving the kid a little help. He already had the 2C position, might as well help the team out.

They did some more draws before the coach whistled them in. After which was the scrimmage. Lines 1 and 4 vs Lines 2 and 3. First and second lines started, so Brooks watched Marcus take and surprisingly win the faceoff against Nicky. After that, he found himself focusing on Mike's skating. His heart ached again. Then it was his turn.

His team ended up winning by a goal and Marcus skated up to him and thanked him. Brooks nodded, gave him a pat and walked off the ice. However, Marcus was quick to join him in the hall and thank him again.

Brooks really didn't get it. Marcus was the second line center, and a very talented one at that. Brooks was just a hard worker, more of an auxiliary man. Not really the guy you'd bug for playing advice, not when you have Nicklas Backstrom on your team and they're from the same country.

Or was it because he slept with him. Twice. That probably wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. Once was bad enough, but he was stupid enough to sleep with Marcus again. And actually stay the night both times.

There is so much wrong with that, Brooks' hung over mind didn't want to process. He can't even legally drink in the US yet, for one. Seven year difference, meaning Brooks was a total creeper. Second, he's a fucking teammate. Third, you're in love with another teammate!

Brooks sat in his stall and grabbed his head for a second. His head is pounding, like a drill poking through his skull and thinking about how bad he fucked up is magnifying it by ten.

All of this is again made worse when someone taps Brooks on the shoulder. Brooks sighs as he looks up at Marcus. "Fuck," he mumbles under his breath. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Marcus asks.

Brooks shrugs. "I'm fine, just a little under the weather. I'm sure you understand.

Marcus nodded, sitting down beside him. Brooks was about to say something when Marcus held out his hand with a couple aspirin. "I took the bottle from my house, I was going to give it to you earlier but you were on the ice already," Marcus explained.

Brooks took the aspirin and thanked Marcus. Marcus went off to his own stall to get undressed, while Brooks did the same.

+++++++ ++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++

The next day starts off alright. They have a game and Brooks had slept off his hang over, for the most part anyway. He was still a little under 100%, but he'd live.

Brooks shows up at the rink for morning skate, which Bruce had also made mandatory. He probably could've used the extra sleep time, but he wouldn't complain. It shouldn't be long anyway.

He strips down and starts putting on his gear like everyone else. About half the guys are there already, getting dressed and Brooks mentally thinks of who would be on the ice already, and who will show up momentarily. He laughs a little when Alex one and two are the first to pop into his head as momentarily late.

As environmental as carpooling is, having two Russians who are easily side-tracked drive each other may not be the most time-saving idea. However, a closer glance proved that he was wrong and both Alex's were there, and almost dressed.

Marcus shows up just as Brooks is getting his gear on. He looks around before placing his bag in the stall beside Brooks', seeing as his usual spot was taken up by an apparent arm wrestling match between the two Russians.

Marcus and Brooks made a little small talk about the game before Brooks headed to the ice. He was in a better mood than the previous day, so Marcus' tendency to ramble on didn't bother him.

When the skate was over, Marcus asked Brooks if he wanted to grab some lunch. Brooks shrugged, eating sounded like a good idea, he was due for a meal.

He agreed, and then turned to Alex and asked if he and Sasha wanted to come for lunch. Marcus made a sound, but shrugged when Brooks turned back. "That okay? I owe Alex for last time," Brooks explained.

After Marcus agreed, the four met up at a nearby diner. It wasn't anything special, but they all pretty much got varying salads anyway. There was a short lived group conversation before Sasha said something in Russian and it seemed to be carrying on, effectively ending the previous discussion.

Brooks intended to eat in relative silence, when Marcus sparked up the conversation about how they started playing hockey. Alex and Sasha apparently saw this as worthy conversation and gave their stories. Marcus looked almost longingly at Brooks, waiting for his answer.

Brooks shrugged. "Nothing that unusual, I grew up in Saskatchewan and there's not much else to do there. They put me on the ice before I could walk and I've been glued to it ever since," he explained. "Just worked hard for it."

Marcus remained looking at Brooks, with a stupid smile until Alex piped up. "What about you, Swedey?"

Marcus seemed to start a little, but quickly regained whatever composure he had before. "Not that exciting either, it was in my family. I was about three when I started up," he said with a shrug.

Alex said something in Russian this time, and both Russians went back into their conversation. Brooks rolled his eyes. "Sorry I brought them, they tend to do that sometimes," he offered as a sort of apology to the young center.

Marcus smiled and gave a nod. "I don't mind. You're here, right? At least I can speak English," he smiled again.

Sasha raised his voice, though still in Russian and Alex ignored whatever had been said as he turned back to the other two at the table. "Sasha and I are going to leave, he's a little cranky and wants me to take him to his place," Alex said, ignoring the further complaints from his fellow countryman. "Thanks for lunch, and good company," he added, giving a nod to both men before getting up and pulling Sasha with him.

"That was kind of weird," Marcus said, eyes following the two leaving.

"That's what going to lunch with two Russians is like. But they have a point, I could use a little nap. Is it okay if I get the bill and head back?" Brooks says, looking at his watch.

Marcus looks slightly disappointed, or maybe he's tired as well. Either way, he agrees and goes up with Brooks so he can pay his own portion. "I can get it, you know," Brooks offered.

"No thanks, Alex had a pretty expensive meal, I'd feel bad," Marcus answered honestly. his food wasn't that much, but he also didn't want to seem like he wanted to mooch off of Brooks' kindness.

Brooks shrugged, paid his part of the bill and they said goodbye after Marcus paid his


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

Brooks drives home and slumps down on his couch, seeing no point in seeking his bed. He's in a pretty good mood after having a nice lunch, he was able to keep his mind off Mike and the fact he's going to hell for sleeping with Marcus.

He stretches out and closes his eyes. After everything he put himself through the past few days, he has no trouble falling asleep almost instantly.

He got in a good two hours of sleep before his alarm woke him. He was feeling alright as he set to his normal game-day stuff. Unfortunately, in the past, a lot of the time in between morning skate and the game usually involved Mike, and that clearly wasn't an option.

He walked around his apartment, looking for things to occupy his time. He passed at his home gym, figuring a big workout wasn't a good idea before a game and he really didn't have that much at his house. It took him forever to get basic furniture in his house, let alone anything extra.

He sat back down on the couch, figuring TV would pass his time away easily enough. As he grabbed the remote, his hand knocked into a bottle of gin from the other night. He examines it before placing it back on the table and continues to find something on TV.

He skips through the channels before finally settling on ESPN, against his usual judgment of not watching sport stations before a game. He really doesn't care right now. Boredom has put him in a melancholic mood and he really just wants the time to pass so he can play the damn game.

He watches the highlights of a Skins game, all the while stealing glances at the bottle on the table. His many attempts to prove drinking would be a horrible idea fell flat as his restlessness overcame logic. If he only had a drink or two, it wouldn't be so bad. Ovi had played buzzed before, so who would care if Brooks had a drink? It's not like he'd be drunk, wobbling all over the damn place.

He gave in, getting up to take a glass from the cupboard before returning to the couch. He had a couple drinks. Enough to pass the time and work on a little buzz, but not enough to get him wasted and into trouble.

Only, after he put the bottle a safe distance away, he realized he still had quite a bit of time to kill. Still bored, he took a book from the shelf and started on reading it.

However, reading when slightly buzzed proved straining and Brooks ended up just taking a nap until he had to leave. It was the most painless thing to do, and probably the smartest given his recent history of bad choices. So he rests his eyes and lets his mind wander for a moment or two.

\--- ---- ---

Its five to seven and everyone's dressed and ready to hit the ice for the pregame skate. Only, there's one person less stall which creates a problem. The locker room is amiss with shouting and pacing as neither staff, nor any player has word on the location of Brooks Laich.

Being late is a rare occurrence for Brooks, but he is beyond late which is what has everyone worried. Alex looks across the room, taking note in the visibly distraught centerman looking as if he's about to throw up or cry.

"Brooks is smart, yes? Don't worry about him, probably just asleep or something dumb. Didn't look too good earlier, probably has a cold," Alex offered, standing in front of the young Swede. Marcus nodded his head, looking up at Ovechkin. "Have you tried calling him?" Alex asked.

"Me?" Marcus said automatically. "No. I guess I could, nobody else has?" Marcus asked, kind of surprised the thought hadn't crossed anyone.

Alex shrugged, not actually knowing the answer. "Couldn't hurt, either way, right?"

Just then, Bruce shouted for everyone to get onto the ice. Still standing by Marcus, Alex noticed his face sadden and told him to stay. Marcus was about to comment, when Alex walked over and talked to Bruce.

"Don't take long, Marcus," Bruce yelled before leaving the dressing room with Alex.

Marcus sat for a couple seconds, wondering what Alex could've said to Bruce. Or why. He got the feeling he probably showed too much emotion concerning Brooks. Maybe they knew. But knew what?

He shook his head and dialed Brooks' number, praying for an answer. Seconds later, he got one. "Who is this?"

"Brooks? It's Marcus, where are you?"

"Home," Brooks answered plainly.

"It's after seven, why aren't you here? Is everything okay?" Marcus asked, worriedly. There was something off with Brooks' voice.

He heard cursing in the background and shuffling before Brooks said anything else. "Fuck, I fell asleep. I'll be right down. Fuck, tell Bruce I'm sorry? Fuck, I totally didn't mean to go to sleep. Shit," Brooks said.

Marcus wanted to say something else, ask if he was alright to drive, but decided against it. "Alright, I’ll tell him," he answered. Brooks thanked him and hung up.

Marcus put his phone away and joined the team, telling Bruce of Brooks' apology and situation. Bruce didn't look too happy, but kept his mouth shut, most likely saving it for Brooks. No use shooting the messenger, right?

The skate went on as usual, but was pretty relaxed. When the boys cleared off the ice, Brooks hadn't yet arrived. Marcus stared at the clock for a couple minutes. Alex watched him, wondering if he was trying to freeze time or will Brooks to show up in said amount of time.

Brooks showed up about ten minutes later, with no excuse of what took so long. Alex watched Marcus worriedly follow Brooks with his eyes. There was a fifty-fifty chance of Bruce totally flipping his lid and giving it to Brooks, or perhaps just telling him not to do it again.

Fortunately, Bruce just shook his head, gave him a calm mini-lecture and sent him to get ready. It was a pretty fair punishment; most players would've gotten the belt. Bruce was in a good mood today.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said softly as Brooks sat down beside him. Brooks looked at him for a second before shrugging. "You didn't do anything. I just fell asleep, that's all," Brooks explained.

"Well, if I didn't make you go to lunch, you would've slept earlier and it wouldn't have been a problem and Bruce wouldn't be mad at you," Marcus explained.

Brooks patted him on the back and shook his head. "It wouldn't have changed anything, don't worry about it. He's been mad at me before, I'll live," he shrugged as he pulled on his gear.

\--- ---- ---

The game's going smoothly, Caps are up three to one. Brooks isn't getting much ice time so far, which isn't much of a surprise considering.

He's out on the ice and he loses his footing, sliding a little before getting up and finishing his shift. He hops over the boards, and Marcus hops on the ice.

Brooks takes a seat next to Alex on the end of the bench. He watches the play go down the ice for a minute before Alex jabs him in the side. "What?" Brooks asks, a little annoyed.

"I ask you something?" Alex asked.

"You just did," Brooks rolled his eyes. "But why not?"

Alex looked slightly confused, but continued with his question. "Are you mad at Marcus?"

Brooks looked at Alex. "What would I be mad at him for? He hasn't done anything."

"So, you're not having a fight or anything?" Alex asked for clarification.

Brooks shook his head, wondering what Alex was trying to get at. Marcus was not the problem at the moment. Or maybe it was. Maybe he said something. "Did he say something?"

Alex shrugged. "No. You're just distant, didn't come in together. He seemed worried."

Brooks looked at Alex, confused. "What does that have to do with us fighting, because I was late?"

"Well, you've both been acting weird, like you break up maybe," Alex offered, looking back to the ice. "Nothing wrong?"

Before Brooks could say anything, Alex gave him a nod before jumping on the ice as the second line hopped on the bench. Mind confused and unable to work things out in his mind, Brooks just shut off his thinking and watched the play.

The horn sounded minutes later, signalling the end of the first. They peeled off the bench and into the locker room where Bruce said his piece before leaving them be. They were winning, after all.

The guys went on doing their thing, talking amongst each other and getting ready for the next period. Brooks couldn't stop thinking about what Alex had said earlier, so he got up and asked if he could talk to Alex for a moment, interrupting the surely important conversation between the two Russians. Sasha gave him a put off look, but Alex rolled his eyes and swatted Sasha away, saying something in Russian.

Brooks smirked at Sasha's dramatic exit and teasing strut, meant for Alex. He turned his head, hoping neither noticed his admiration of the show.

"So, how you say, Brooksie?" Alex said, patting the bench beside him.

Brooks took a seat beside Alex and shrugged. "I was just wondering, what you meant earlier. About Marcus and I," Brooks said, shushing his anxiety of facing the fact he was going to hell for sleeping with Marcus and the whole team knew.

Alex shrugged, not knowing what to say. "I was just wondering if you broke up, both acting a little strange," he commented.

Brooks' face reddened. "I-uh. Marcus and I were never, you know, dating. Why would you even think that?" Brooks asked, stammering but hoping it would go unnoticed.

Alex's eyes widened as he looked at Brooks. "You weren't? Why you always so close though? Until now, you always hang out, always talk and friendly- I just assumed, since he likes guys, yes?"

Brooks blushed again. "Yeah, well we're not dating. I mean," Brooks paused with a sigh. "We fucked, alright? That's all, on the last trip and again the other night. It means nothing; I was really drunk and angry. That's all it was," Brooks assured his team mate flatly, leaving no room for argument.

Instead of arguing, which was never Alex's intention, seeing as Brooks came to him, he reasoned with him. "Does he know that?" Alex asked, sympathetically looking over to Marcus, who looked no more together than Brooks.

Brooks didn't have an answer to that. He assumed Marcus knew, but they never really talked about it. He had been around him a lot, calling, lunch, maybe he didn't know? Brooks shrugged and thanked Alex, leaving for his stall.

On his way back, Sasha passed him and whispered into his ear. "I know you looked," he winked, patting Brooks on the back as he walked casually back to Alex.

Oh great, everyone thought Brooks was dating a fucking kid, and now they probably all saw him checking Sasha out. Great. He's not only a creep, but he's a total perv as well.

 

They went back on the ice and Brooks was as distracted as ever. He was playing sloppy and only getting more frustrated. "Fuck!" he yelled as the Caps were scored against. Fucking Oshie can go fuck off.

Things only got worse after that goal, not only for Brooks, but the goal seemed to rev up St. Louis and they began playing better than before.

By the end of the second, the Caps were losing and Brooks was losing his mind.

Bruce yelled at them, all of them, to get their shit together and work things out. This, of course, having nothing to do with Brooks and Marcus, went straight to Brooks' mind as "Brooks and Marcus, work this out."

"We're not dating," Brooks said out loud to Marcus. There was a look of shock on Marcus' face and Brooks can't place if it's the topic or the content. "I was drunk, I was lonely, that was it," he continued. "You're a good fuck, but I'm not looking for this kind of relationship thing with you," Brooks finished.

Marcus looked a mix of pissed and about to cry. Fucking twenty year-olds, Brooks thought. "What the fuck?" Marcus said, loud enough for the team to take note of.

"No, seriously," Marcus continued. "What the fuck are you trying to prove? Fuck the kid so you can make him cry? Well, fuck you too, Brooks. I'm not playing," he shouted, standing up and leaving the room.

That probably was the worst idea Brooks had ever had, and he was on a roll. The team was now staring at him and he had nothing to say for himself. Marcus had just outted them both, and it was all Brooks' fault.

The next period came along and Brooks was benched. Not that he blamed Bruce, based only on his play, Brooks wouldn't play himself either. He couldn't believe what was happening to him, he'd never even think of doing any of what he's done that past week. He's let his life turn into a complete mess over one guy.

The horn signalled the end of the period, the game, and Brooks' life.

Back in the locker room, it was silent. They had lost a game and it was Brooks' fault, everybody knew that. You don't talk about personal shit in the middle of a game; you most certainly don't tell your team mate you are just fucking him. Bruce just looked at him, which was worse than yelling, way worse.

Everybody was quick to get showered and out of there, no need to prolong the situation. Brooks thinks Marcus was the first out, eyes puffy and avoidant. He's not even sure if Marcus showered or just wet his hair.

Brooks was the last out, and only because the equipment manager seemed pissed he was still there. He drove home and sunk into his bed, needing to fade away for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

When Brooks wakes up, or more accurately comes to, all he can think about is Marcus' face. His expression when Brooks told him, hurt him. Brooks hit himself in the face, and then again, cursing himself for being such a fuck up.

He didn't have to do that. There was no reason he had to be such a bastard to Marcus, and there's no way he should've done it there, for everyone to see. He publically humiliated his friend because he was feeling sorry for himself. What kind of ass hole does that?

Brooks takes a shower, cleans himself off. It's especially hot as Brooks attempts to either sweat his body clean, or at least make himself suffer through the heat. His skin has a red glow, but his face is still pale.

He dresses, takes a bottle of water and heads out the door. It's late, Brooks knows this, but he can't wait until the morning. He needs to see Marcus now, sober, and apology honest in his heart. He hurt Marcus and he sure as hell didn't mean to.

He knocked at the door and waited for Marcus to answer. He tried to think of how to say what he wanted to say, and of course didn't think ahead of time. Before anything came to mind, he was being shoved off the step with a hard push which caused Brooks to yelp.

"You can fuck off, Brooks. I don't want to hear it," Marcus growls, anger in his voice pure and it makes Brooks shiver.

"Listen, I didn't-" Brooks starts, but is quickly cut off by Marcus.

"I said I don't want to hear it. All you've done is make things worse. Thanks to you, not only does the whole fucking team know I'm gay, but they probably think I'll sleep with anybody. I'm not like that, Brooks. I'm not one of those guys who sleeps around just because he likes cock. I refuse to be your fuck toy," Marcus said, leaving no space for Brooks to cut in.

"Marcus, wait!" Brooks yelled, taking a small step closer to Marcus. "Listen, I was a fucking idiot for what I did to you and I'm so unbelievably sorry. I wasn't thinking, I was messed up in my own fucked up mind and I had no reason to bring you any of this pain. I just don't know what I'm doing anymore, I have nowhere to go. Can I come in and talk for a minute, just you don't have to forgive me, I can leave, but I-"

"Fine," Marcus said flatly, cutting off whatever Brooks was going to say. It was late and his neighbours probably didn't want to hear it. "Come in."

Brooks steps into Marcus' house, for the first time he's sober. It's a really nice house. Marcus glances at the stairs they had climbed before, but keeps walking towards the kitchen. "I suppose I should offer you a drink, some water, perhaps?" Marcus said dryly.

Brooks nods, staying silent for the time being. He can tell Marcus only let him in to get him off the porch, and will soon be kicking him out. Marcus turns back around and hands Brooks a glass of water. "So, are you going to say anything or did you just come for the water?"

That stung a bit, Brooks isn't going to lie. Not that he wasn't expecting the cold shoulder anyway. "I like you," Brooks starts off. "I do. You're sweet, funny, sexy, smart, you're everything anyone wants in a guy, but I just can't do it," Brooks trails off for a second.

"Why did you come here?" Marcus asks, unmoved by the beginning of Brooks' speech.

"Mainly, to apologise for acting like a prick, treating you like shit," Brooks started, but Marcus cut him off.

"You can leave then," Marcus says flatly and it burns Brooks to hear it.

"No, I just-"

"Did you say no?" Marcus asks, voice raised in anger. "You're in my house, Brooks, you can't just tell me what to do, alright? Now get the fuck out," Marcus yells, pointing to the door.

"I'm in love with Mike," It's simple, it's direct, and it's what Brooks meant to say, so the fact he yelled it just then is probably for the best. Marcus is looking at him, eyes wide and mouth open. "That's why I've been so fucked up, that's why I was at your hotel room, why I came to your house the other night. Why I can't be with you," Brooks says, lowering his voice.

"Green?" Marcus asks, surprise in his voice.

"Who else?" Brooks shrugs.

"I don't understand how I'm involved. If you and Mike are-" Marcus started, before Brooks sharply cut him off.

"We're not. Before I fucked things up with you, I fucked things up with him. Apparently, I'm only good at fucking things up," Mike said.

"So, you were together?" Marcus asked, sitting down beside Brooks.

Brooks took a deep breath. "Nope. That night, at the hotel. I got way too drunk at the bar before getting sick of watching Mike tongue-fuck some girl. I went up to our room and," Brooks paused, looking up at Marcus. "I never told Mike I liked him, never told him I liked guys or any of that. So, watching him was like torture and I tried to get him out of my mind, but I just kept thinking about him and I was trying to take care of it, but he came in with the girl and I faked sleep. I had to listen to them for forever and I accidentally groaned and she got mad and left. Mike thought I was still asleep. I heard him taking care of himself, but I was so fucking drunk," Brooks paused again, cringing at the memory. "I walked over to his bed, naked, and tried to suck his dick," Brooks confessed.

Marcus stared at Brooks, mouth open and eyes concerned. He had had no idea of what went on prior to Brooks ending up in his room, just that he was frustrated.

"Needless to say," Brooks continued. "He's not into guys, not into me, I got angry and called myself some names, him some names and stormed out. I think you know the rest," Brooks finished, closing his eyes.

"I didn't know," Marcus said. "Have you been fighting with him this whole time?" he asked.

Brooks shrugged. "When I came to your house, yes. We got in another fight after I tried to confront him again. Other than that, I've been avoiding him. Fighting with myself, really. And I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm just a fucking-" Brooks started.

"Don't, Brooks," Marcus cut him off. "Don't do this to yourself again. You fucked up, but don't make things worse for yourself," he finished, leaning in a bit closer to Brooks.

"How could they get any worse, everybody hates me now," Brooks said with a sigh.

"Nobody hates you. If anything, it's just anger. Anger passes," Marcus said with a sympathetic smile.

"Mike hates me. The rest don't really matter, do they?" Brooks said, shaking his head.

"Do I matter?" Marcus asked. As Brooks looked up, Marcus kissed him, wrapped his arms around Brooks to bring him closer.

Brooks softly pushed him away. "I can't do this to you again. I told you, I can't," Brooks said, looking at the ground. Marcus didn't back away. He moved in closer and kissed Brooks' neck, his jaw, before going back to his lips.

"This isn't anything. Just sex. Like you said, we both wanted it. So, unless you don't want to," Marcus trailed off. Brooks looked him in the eyes for a minute before kissing back.

Marcus broke them apart, nudging them towards the stairs. Brooks followed Marcus up the stairs and into his bed room before pushing him up against the wall to taste his lips. "You sure?" Brooks asked, in an effort to not be a dick this time.

Marcus smiled and nodded, taking care of Brooks' shirt. The rest of the clothes soon fell off as well and they ended up on the bed, kissing and touching each other.

Marcus broke contact with Brooks to catch his breath and look Brooks up and down. "I want you to top this time," Marcus said, biting his lip.

Brooks stared back at Marcus for a minute. "You trust me to?" Brooks asked.

Marcus nodded with a small smile. "You're sober this time, not angry. I want this," he said softly, still biting the corner of his lip.

Brooks licked the corner of Marcus' lip that he had been biting and sucked at it gently. "Okay," Brooks answered, releasing the swollen tissue and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Brooks kissed his way down Marcus' body, paying special attention to the areas he knew Marcus loved. He teasingly dragged his fingers through the small trail of hair on Marcus' stomach that led lower and lower.

Marcus was nearly out of breath already, gasping through the shivers throughout his body as Brooks took him into his mouth. 'Might have to ask him for pointers,' Marcus thought, keeping it to himself as he let his head fall back onto the bed.

Marcus watched again, as Brooks pulled off and ventured lower, tending to his balls, and teasing his hole with a finger as he kissed his thighs. Then Brooks gently shifted Marcus' legs apart and, to Marcus' surprise, started to eat him out.

Marcus let out a loud moan when he felt Brooks' tongue. Most guys would never even entertain the thought, but then again, he's never been with someone he's that close with, so maybe it was normal or something. Marcus bucked up a couple times after Brooks had two or three fingers, along with his tongue and Brooks smirked, kissing Marcus' butt cheek with a laugh as he pulled out.

"You think you're ready?" Brooks asked, kissing his way up again. Marcus nodded, handing Brooks a condom and lube. "I'm ready," he confirmed aloud.

Brooks closed his eyes for a second before getting himself ready. He tore the package open and slid the thin rubber over himself and coating it with lube. He looked at Marcus, ran his fingers down his chest before resting on his hips.

Adjusting them both, he slowly eased himself inside Marcus with a low groan. He stayed still for a bit, allowing them both to adjust. He wasn't sure when the last time Marcus had bottomed. Come to think of it, he never even asked if he had bottomed before.

Granted, Marcus didn't seem to lack any experience in the bed department, he could've had the decency to ask. Brooks moved experimentally and received a nod from Marcus to continue. From there, things picked up at a normal pace.

Being sober made things a lot easier. There was no lack of coordination or unfocused thought process, just them. Brooks was kissing up and down Marcus' neck and jaw. This felt a lot better than the last time, and not because he was on top this time. He actually preferred to bottom, but there was no question about this being amazing.

They looked into each other's eyes, and it sent a shiver down Brooks' spine, causing him to thrust a bit harder, which made Marcus groan loudly. "There!" he yelled, tugging Brooks' head down by his just-graspable hair.

Brooks deepened his thrusts, eliciting favourable sounds from Marcus that sent more vibes down his spine. He wrapped his arms around Marcus' back and under his thigh and rolled over, keeping Marcus with him.

Brooks let his arms slide to Marcus' hips as he rest on his lap to steady Marcus' thrusts as he sit on his lap, fucking himself on Brooks' cock. Brooks shivered and let out a moan as he continued to pound into Marcus from below. Marcus began to spit out marbled sentences louder and louder as they found a system that apparently worked wonders for both of them.

Brooks was biting his lip, letting his hands roam Marcus' sides as he felt himself creep closer to the edge. The next thing he felt were soft lips over his, tongue gaining entrance to his mouth as he let his lip out from his teeth.

They shared this kiss for a few moments, until Marcus let out a sound and brought up his pace. Brooks smirked at him and rolled them over once again, finding that spot and working Marcus' cock through his orgasm as he continued to build to his own.

After he came, Marcus lay on the bed, continuing to moan and find spots on Brooks to lick and suck as he continued to fuck him. Brooks closed his eyes for a second, long enough for Marcus to bring his lips close to Brooks' ear and whisper god knows what into his ear. All in Swedish, all low and breathy. All of it too much for Brooks as he came, practically seeing stars as he released and collapsed on the bed beside Marcus.

Both out of breath, they stayed put for a couple minutes in relative silence. Only the sounds of their erratic breathing filling the room.

\--- --- ---

Brooks must have dozed off because he woke up with Marcus sleeping against him, head resting on his shoulder and they were partly covered in a blanket. He looked around the room, trying to find a clock.

It was almost morning- technically already morning, but almost time for them to get up, a couple hours anyway. Not that they technically did have to wake up, no game or practice today. Which was good, since he wasn't sure Marcus would be up for either after last night. Judging by how fast Brooks fell asleep, and how exhausted he still is, Marcus wouldn't be much better. It lasted significantly longer than their usual, although the booze might be to blame for that.

Brooks didn't know what to do right now. He could go back to sleep, with Marcus on his chest and against his body like so, or he could try and slip out unnoticed. Slipping out seemed to be the best option to Brooks. They wouldn’t' have to talk about it and Brooks could go home and sleep the rest of the day and deal with everyone hating him another day.

That was until he looked down at Marcus. Not only would it be difficult to get away without waking him, he really didn't like the thought of Marcus being mad at him again. He sighed deeply before giving in to his subconscious and shutting his damn eyes again, falling asleep almost instantly.

\--- --- ---

"You're still here?" whispered a soft voice from beside Brooks. He cracked an eye open to see the dark-haired Swede smiling softly at him.

"Oh, I could leave," Brooks started, sitting up and attempting to get to his feet. Marcus caught his arm and pulled it down.

"No rush," Marcus said. "Unless you want to. I'm going back to sleep though, so hurry up before you become my pillow again," he continued, snuggling himself back into Brooks' side.

Marcus wakes up first this time. Feeling a little adventurous, he slid down the bed and gave Brooks' cock a few light strokes before taking him in his mouth.

Brooks woke up with a moan, but lightly tapped Marcus on the shoulder, signalling to stop.

"I-I can't, Marcus," he started. "I need to be somewhere," he continued, getting up and putting on his clothes. "I really am sorry," he added before leaving.

\--- ---- ---

Brooks got into his car and started driving. He felt bad for leaving like that, but couldn't have stayed. He had to talk to Mike.

When Mike answered the door, he looked concerned. "Brooks, are you alright?" he asked.

Brooks wasn't sure how to answer that. Right now, he was technically alright, but his life was still fucked up and he wasn't with Mike, so there was that as well. Instead, he settled for spilling his guts and telling Mike he's sorry about the game, the way he acted towards him, Marcus, and the team.

Mike didn't know what to say, so he invited Brooks in, hoping he was okay.

"I fucked up, I know," Brooks started, sitting down beside Mike. "I did everything so wrong it's not even funny. I never should've crawled into bed with you, that was honestly the alcohol. I should've talked to you about my feelings earlier and not sleep with Marcus when you shut me down. I'm so sorry about that," Brooks admitted.

Mike smiled lightly at Brooks and cleared his throat. "So, are you with Marcus now?" he asked.

Brooks shook his head. "No, why would you think that? I just said I was sorry I slept with him," Brooks answered.

Mike backed off a bit. "I don't know. I mean, you slept with him twice, didn't you?" Mike asked, trying not to invade.

Brooks sighed a bit. "Three actually," he lowered his head. "I slept with him last night. But I didn't intend for it to happen this time. I swear, I just went to say sorry and he came on to me. I know I shouldn't have, but if I didn't he would've gotten mad at me again. I just wanted to fix things. I told him my feelings about you, why I acted the way I did those nights and everything," Brooks didn't make eye contact with Mike until Mike spoke again.

"You went to his house and slept with him? I mean, you obviously like him, right?" Mike asked, avoiding what Brooks said about saying his feelings for Mike.

Brooks sighed angrily. "It wasn't like that. It's not like that with him. I was angry the first two times, and I wasn't in a position to say no the third. Not that I was opposed to the idea, but I wouldn't want to lead him on," he explained.

"I don't understand why you went to him in the first place, if you didn't like him," Mike asked before he could stop himself. It was probably a bad idea, that seemed to get Brooks a little ticked off.

"Okay, look. It's not that I don't like him. He's cute, he's nice, and everything like that, but I can't. It's just not the same," Brooks answered with a harsh tone in his voice, despite his words offering no offense.

"Not the same as what? If you like him, fuck everybody else. He obviously likes you, he slept with you after the locker room shit," Mike said with a shrug. Why was he suddenly the love doctor?

"Fuck, Mike! Not the same as you, don't you get it? I've already fucking said it, or don't you remember? I can't be with Marcus because I don't love him. He's too young for me and I'm in love with you, Mike," Brooks said, ending his frustration.

Mike gaped at him, mouth slightly ajar. He had actually not thought of that since Brooks came to him, after all. He had figured he sobered up and didn't mean it. "What?" Mike said dumbly.

"He's not even twenty-fucking-one yet, Mike! I'm a horrible person," Brooks said, bowing his head into his hands and taking a deep breath.

"Brooks, it's not like he's a baby. He's almost twenty-one, he's a big boy. I don't think he'd do anything he didn't want to do, right? How does that make you a horrible person?" Mike said, moving a bit closer to Brooks.

Brooks sighed. "Maybe because I'm a faggot," he mumbled.

Mike pushed Brooks' shoulder, making Brooks look at him. "Brooks, I never want to hear you say that again, okay? I'm not fucking kidding right now," he said, angrily.

"Oh, what? You change your mind, you want me now?" Brooks asked, leaning into Mike, nuzzling his neck until Mike backed off. "Come on, I don't even want to top. I just want you inside me, Mike," Brooks pretty much begged.

"Brooks, why are you being like this? I thought we were friends?" Mike said, trying to keep Brooks from freaking out.

"But I love you. I fucking love you, Mike. I can't just put that away, you know?" Brooks shouted.

"Believe me, Brooks. I wish I felt the same way, I just want you happy, but I can't," Mike offered. "I'm just not into guys. It doesn't bother me that you are or anything, you're still my best friend. I just can't be more with you," he said with a sigh.

"Well then, I'm pretty much fucked aren't I? No, not even. If I were, I'd be pretty fucking happy, wouldn't I?" Brooks yelled.

"Brooks, let's just talk alright? Tell me why it's such a big deal all of a sudden," Mike offered, trying to get his friend to open up.

Instead, Brooks stood up and pushed him back. "Fuck you too, Mike," he said as he passed and went out the door, letting it slam.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

Mike sat back on his couch, trying to think of how they could settle this or if it would be another thing to stick out in the locker room. He really wanted things to get better, he didn't want Brooks to be mad or whatever he was right now.

He didn't want to think about talking to Bruce or McPhee about it, that would be worst case, but how much longer can this go on? It was clearly effecting Brooks' game, as well as the team play.

There was a knock at the door a couple minutes later and Mike was almost afraid to answer it. If it was Brooks again, there was no doubt he'd be drunk again.

Instead of Brooks, Mike opened the door to Marcus and honestly didn't know what to make of the visit. "Can I talk to you?" Marcus asked in a soft voice, seeming almost scared.

Mike nodded and stepped aside to let Marcus in, leading him into the living room. "So, what's up?" Mike asked, sitting down.

"Have you talked to Brooks today?" Marcus asked, once again seeming scared.

Mike sighed. One of those visits, he thought. "Uh, yeah. He left about twenty minutes ago," Mike answered simply.

"I figured he came here. How'd it go?" Marcus asked, looking hopeful.

Mike huffed out a bit of a laugh. "How's it been going with him anytime lately? He came alright, but said some things and got pissed off and left. He's become impossible to talk to lately," Mike answered.

Marcus looked like he might cry and Mike wanted to just leave. He can't deal with a clearly heartbroken kid right now. Sure, he's a friend, but his best friend just told him to fuck off. "It's because he loves you," Marcus answered. "I know he said he told you, and it didn't go well, but he does. I can tell," he continued.

"I figured he wouldn't lie about something like that, but there's not much I can do. I figured he would be understanding that I just don't like guys that way. I never said anything bad about him, gay or straight. I have no problem with it, I just don't like guys. There's nothing I can do," Mike replied.

Marcus sighs. "You're lucky, you know? I would give almost anything for Brooks to feel that way about me. He's just so sexy, and usually so nice and caring. I just wish he wasn't so angry all the time right now," he finished.

"I just want my friend back. I'm worried about him and he doesn't even realise it. He just thinks everyone is against him, I don't even know what I can say to him anymore. It seems like everything I say makes him pissed off," Mike shrugs. "I think you'd be good together, to be honest. You get along really well, I don't know why he doesn't see that right now. It doesn't make sense," he adds.

Marcus shrugs lifelessly. "All he cares about is you. He only likes me because I'll fuck him, which I shouldn't do but- it's hard. I hate the look in his eyes, after he fights with you, it's just too much," Marcus sighed. "He even said your name once, you know. I pretended not to hear it, but it replays in my mind sometimes, reminds me he doesn't actually have feelings for me."

Mike looks up at Marcus, looks into his eyes and sees his pain. It's not unlike Brooks', or even the way Mike's feeling- to a degree. It's hurt, confusion, love, and worry. By all means, a complete clusterfuck. The worst part is, Mike has a feeling Brooks does care for Marcus, he's just not letting himself see it.

After Marcus leaves- which is a surprisingly long talk later since Marcus felt comfortable enough to fill Mike in on some other issues. Not really his forte, but who is he to argue?- Mike calls John Carlson. He laughs at the thought of calling probably the most emotionally dunce guy on the team for relationship advice, especially since it technically in no way relates to him.

John answers and talks to Mike, offering his opinion on what little Mike is willing to divulge of the situation. "So, you basically have to find out if Brooks is being a dink for no reason, or if he likes baby Swede," he says. Mike is waiting for that to be continued before he realizes that was the complete thought.

"Yeah, I was kind of thinking you could help me out with that. I'm not really in a position to find that out, but I think it needs to be done soon. It's starting to show up on the ice," Mike says, trying to suggest John help him out.

"Hmm, tell me a little more. If I'm going to be going one-on-one with Sir Psycho, I want to know the facts before he goes all ginger on me," John replies after a small pause.

Mike sighs. "Brooks is conflicted. He thinks he's in love with someone, and maybe he is, but that someone doesn't love him back in that way, he's not into guys," Mike starts, "So, Brooks gets angry at him and he eventually goes to Marcus' room and stuff happens, as you can probably guess, and it's happened a few more times. Basically, Marcus is in love with Brooks, and I think Brooks likes him as well, just won't admit it yet. Why else would he keep going back every time?"

"Good call. You're not into guys?" John asks and Mike stops himself from growling. "Why would you even ask that?" Mike asks.

"I don't know, you just seem like the kinda guy who dips a little on both sides. Would've put money on you having a think for Brooks, too. Maybe Ovi as well," he answers.

"I don't dip on both sides, nor do I have a thing for Brooks and certainly not Ovechkin. Are you serious?" Mike asks, but doesn't leave any space for Carlson to answer. "Will you talk to him for me?" he asks impatiently.

"Fine, but I don't know why you're all in a rut about it. Jeeze, I'll go over there now, if I must," John says and hangs up.

Mike just sits down with a cup of tea. He locks his door and slumps back into his couch.

\--- ---- ---

John shows up at Brooks' place and doesn't know what to say, really. He figures he'll trail around the subject a bit before addressing it straight on. Brooks answers and he looks like shit, but John smiles like he doesn't notice. "Hey man, mind if I hang out, Alzy's being a dick," he says as an excuse.

Brooks looks a little hesitant, but steps aside. "Sure, why not. I'm not really doing anything, though," he offers as some sort of apology. John shakes it off. "No problem, just had to get away from him a bit. I like the guy, but when he gets in a mood, it's fire city," John huffs out a laugh. "So, how's it going?" he asks.

Brooks shrugs. "Could be better. Want a drink?" he asks. He had told himself he wasn't going to drink, but John seemed to need a kickback so who was he to deny it?

"Um, sure I guess. If you want to," John isn't really as stressed as he made it seem. In fact, he has no residing problems with Alzner, so drinking is actually quite pointless from the way Brooks is suggesting. However, he'll take it.

They don't start talking much right away, they have a few drinks and John starts a conversation about the team. It's harmless enough in the beginning, but lack of judgement led to Brooks telling John he knew why he was there and John thinking he was right.

Brooks moved closer to John and put his hand on his arm. "It's okay, you know," Brooks said, sliding his hand down John's arm. John gave him a weird look, not catching on to what Brooks was thinking about. Brooks moved a little closer, getting into John's personal space.

John still had no idea what was going on, perhaps he was a bit of a lightweight. The next thing he knew, Brooks' mouth was on his, and he wasn't sure how to react. This wasn't what he was here for, but Brooks' hands were practically down his pants already.

John broke the kiss, but Brooks went back, saying it was okay. He knows. The truth was, he didn't know. He thought John was there because what happened in the locker room, that he thought John wanted a quick fuck or something. He had no idea John wanted to know if he liked Marcus.

John wanted to stop it, he knew he should stop it. This was in no way any kind of a good idea, but Brooks was a good kisser and he was more than a little drunk. By the time he tried to stop it, Brooks was on his knees, playing around with John's flaccid penis, trying to get it and him interested.

It wasn't long after that when John found himself deep inside Brooks, with his hand pumping his dick, telling him to cum.

When John came down, he felt like shit. He just slept with his fucking teammate, who he had generally no attraction to and was supposed to be supporting a friend who did like him. Or, as Mike pretty much put it, may even love him.

He felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn't the alcohol. He was pretty sure Brooks was passed out already and John needed to get the hell out of there. He got off the couch and stepped into his boxers when Brooks made a muffled sound. "Smthing wrong?"

John dropped his jeans, ignoring them falling to glare at Brooks. "You think?" He asked sarcastically. "You're an asshole. I get you're hung up on Mike, but you need to get over yourself. Screwing with everyone on the team, screwing everybody on the team isn't going to help anyone, it's going to make everyone hate you," John yelled, pulling up his pants.

Brooks stayed silent and watched John look for his shirt. "You know what pisses me off the most right now? I didn't come over here to get my cock sucked, or sink my dick into some asshole who's willing. I actually came over here because Mike wanted me to talk to you. He's worried as fuck you're going to do something stupid and fuck things up with Marcus," John continues.

"There is nothing to fuck up, but tell him thanks for his concern," Brooks said in a bitter tone.

John shook his head angrily. "This is what I'm talking about. You're looking for the easiest way out where you wont get hurt. But guess what? You are hurting, Brooks. Not because of Mike, either- don't put that on him. Marcus likes you, may even be in love with you. I don't know, but instead of feeling sorry for yourself because Mike doesn't like cock, why don't you try looking at what's in front of you?"

"Oh, fuck off," Brooks shouted back.

"Gladly," John said, throwing on his shirt and leaving.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

When John left the house, he wanted to drive off a bridge. If he had won the Stanley Cup at that point in his life, he probably would have. He had fucked up worse than he could have thought he would and it's all his fault. He should've been able to say no to Brooks, it's as easy as that.

He drives to Mike's place, not knowing where else to go. Mike had put him up to this; Mike had trusted him to find out how Brooks felt, not to sleep with him. He had to tell him what a ridiculous failure he was anyway, so why not get it over with? He knocks frantically at Mike's door, tears in his eyes even though he's told himself not to cry. He's a man, men don't cry. Even when they fuck up this badly.

"John, what happened? Did you talk to him?" Mike asked with a worried tone, letting John inside.

"You could say I talked to him. And then I fucked him and called him an asshole for being hung up on you. So, now him, you and Marcus can all hate me," John says angrily. 

"Why the fuck did you sleep with him?" Mike yells. 

"Because I'm an idiot! I was talking to him and I guess he thought I was coming on to him or something because he just starts kissing me and telling me it's okay and I tried to stop him, I did. I just- we had a lot to drink and he told me he wouldn't let me cum unless I fucked him," John said, breaking down even more as his mind flashed back to the event.

"So, you don't go fucking him! You have a fucking wrist you know, leave his fucking house and jack off like a normal human being. Wait- why the fuck were you drinking anyway?" Mike asks, still angry.

"I told him Alzy was getting on my nerves and I wanted to chill. I didn't want to tip him off that I wanted to talk about Marcus or anything like that, you know how fucking defensive he's been. I didn't think he'd carry on, but he got us some drinks and, well. He thought I wanted to fuck him like Marcus did or whatever. He just started sucking me and I didn't see another way out. I swear, I'm sorry. I feel so fucking bad, I just want to drive off a fucking cliff right now," John said, hitting himself in the already intensely pained head.

"Stop fucking hitting yourself, you're acting like Brooks right now, idiot." Mike snapped, pushing him onto the couch. "Sit. I'm going to call Marcus."

"I'm doooomed," John howled from the living room as Mike went into the kitchen. John could hear his death certificate being written as Mike's voice sounded, sealing his fate. Mike's voice didn't sound angry or worried- it sounded calm and friendly as he talked to Marcus. 

Mike came back into the room and sat down across from him, but they didn't say anything. Mike watched John, causing the younger man to fidget until there was a knock at the door. John falls flat as Mike stiffly gets up to get the door. They exchange words before Marcus is let in and sits where Mike just was, Mike taking a seat beside John. "I slept with him," John blurts out. 

Marcus looks confused. It's the first thing being said to him and he has to ask. "Mike?" 

"No, Brooks!" John corrects, feeling like shit for having to say it again. "I fucked Brooks and I'm so fucking sorry I have no idea why I did it. I'm not even into guys or anything; I wasn't trying to do anything. I just had too much to drink and he talked me into it. I'm so sorry, I know he likes you, he really does. He just doesn't think he's good enough," he adds quickly, forcing back tears of self-loathing.

Marcus stared, sad eyed and open mouthed. Speechless at what he was just told and for so many reasons. John slept with Brooks? "No, don't do that to yourself," John called. "It's not you, he's just being an asshole right now. He likes you, he just doesn't want to let himself like you," he defended Brooks. 

"Why defend him?" Marcus asked. John was about to reply when Marcus cut him off. "He's the drunk, the asshole, the guy who made you sleep with him. Why are you backing him up so much?" he interrogated.

"I just know how much you like him, and I know deep down, he likes you just as much. I can tell by the way his eyes got sad when I told him I was there to find out if he liked you. He looked heart broken. He just doesn't know how to deal with everything right now," John explained.

"It would help if he wasn't so drunk all the time," Marcus scolded.

"Yeah, but he's having a hard time and for some reason, he's having trouble getting out of it. I don't know why or what actually happened in his mind, but I don't think he's the kind of guy to just all of a sudden start acting like an ass hole," John defended. "He's never been the type to sleep around, we all know that. He's not the type to lie either. He just doesn't even seem like him anymore."

Mike sat cautiously, supervising the conversation and only intervening when necessary as the two talked it out. Mike could clearly tell they both seemed to be beaten down, just as Mike had been only days ago. He could only guess what Brooks was up to right now, and he hoped he was wrong.

\--- ---- ---

Brooks covered his face with the pillow, trying to keep the echoes of John's words, everybody's words out of his head. They were all right, he was the biggest fuck up in existence right now and it was all his own fault.

He breathed in slowly, as much as the pillow would allow. It was relaxing to have the need to focus on breathing and not anything else. Almost freeing, despite it being the opposite. "Why?" he asked himself, wondering why he did any of it.

He took the pillow off his face and stared at the wall above his head. He imagined things in the stucco ceiling, like he did when he was a kid. Random, obscure shapes and patterns quickly turned into puzzles in his mind, with a deeper meaning. A horrible meaning. Everything hated him, and he couldn't blame anything for hating him. He hated him.

The more he waited in the bed, staring at the shapeless patterns, the angrier he got. He knew it was dangerous to keep laying there, to keep thinking these thoughts of self-loathing and hatred, so he got up and left his room. 

Walking down the short hallway, he came across the dent in the wall from the night before, and some assorted things thrown around that made his stomach churn. He was a fucking asshole. 

He picked up the bottle of scotch lying at his feet and chucked it at the wall. "You fucking bastard, Brooks," he yelled at himself. "You stupid, self-loathing ass hole. Just fucking go to hell already, why don't you?" he continued. 

He leaned against the kitchen wall and roughly pressed his head to the cool surface. "Why?" he asked himself, a few small tears rolling down his cheek. "Why?!" he yelled, slamming his fist into the wall. He sagged down to the floor, knocking his head against the wall as he sat and reflected his choices. 

"You fucking idiot, John is right. Get the fuck over your sorry crush on Mike and just admit you like Marcus. You've been thinking about him non-fucking-stop anyway, it's bound to mean something," Brooks told himself. "So what if he's a little younger, it's not as bad as Kozzy fucking Semin. Mind you, it wasn't when Semin was twenty years old. It could have happened back in Russia, they played together back then. Semin was about twenty then, and Kozzy would have been about twenty-nine, thirty," he tried to rationalize. 

Kozzy left Semin. Kozzy had a family. Brooks was pretty sure neither would happen for him and Marcus, so long as he could be forgiven. Brooks sighed. Who would forgive him? If Brooks couldn't even forgive himself, why the fuck would Marcus even consider it? "You're a joke, Brooks," he told himself, legs still spread out on the floor as he leaned against the wall.

He got up and picked up a half-empty bottle of gin, seeing no point in being sober anymore. Mind you, there probably was a reason. Sanity being a high point, but he saw no use for sanity when reality was so fucked up. 

Walking over to the couch, side-stepping the broken glass from the scotch bottle, he fell back into his previous position- self-loathing on furniture with cheap alcohol. It felt good almost, the pain he was feeling. It was more natural, at least. Any time he got comfortable with something good, it goes bad all too quickly. The alcohol is burning his throat and he doesn't really care. Maybe if he drinks enough it will burn a hole and he will no longer feel this way.

As he took his fifth swig from the nearing-empty bottle, all Brooks could think about was Marcus. The way he looked after Brooks' outburst in the locker room. Brooks couldn't get the image out of his head. The image of failure, disappointment, pain. None of that was what Marcus deserved, none of it. He takes another drink.

It isn't until the bottle is empty that he gets angry again. Past self-loathing, he's self-hating right now. Another shatter as the bottle somehow ends up right with the shards of scotch bottle. He doesn't recall throwing it, and he knows that's a problem.

He gets up to go to bed, but remembers that he's mad at his bed. His bed is where he fucked Carlson. He doesn't want to think about that right now, so he takes his keys and leaves the house. 

He has the good sense to lock his front door, but stares at his car and ponders the pros and cons of driving in his current state. He remembers Marcus giving Alex shit for driving after a few glasses of wine and honestly, he can't take doing one more thing to disappoint Marcus. He won’t be forgiven as it is, he doesn't need to be hated even more.

So he walks. And walks. And, he didn't think it was this far, but he keeps walking anyway because this is fucking important and who cares if his feet are sore or he has to pee or whatever other excuse he's trying to make for himself. He sees a cop across the street give him a weird look and he remembers he's not wearing a shirt. How he didn't notice is beyond him, but the alcohol pretty much takes credit for that. He tips his head to the cop and keeps walking, hoping that's enough to keep the cop away. He doesn't need a drunk in public ticket right now.

The cop lets him go, but Brooks can feel the guy looking at him as he keeps on walking. It's also very cold and it's starting to get to him. He crosses his arms against his chest for warmth as he continues to walk, finally reaching Marcus' street. He can tell by the fuzziness that he's starting to sober up, and he's both thankful and nervous about that. He's not going back now though. And yes, he does wish he could say it's due to courage and determination, but he knows it's because his feet hurt more than anything. This makes him want to hit himself, but he continues walking. 

When he gets to Marcus' house, he hesitates before walking up the steps to the door. His chest tightens as he gets an intense rush of memory from the nights he ended up knocking on this door like an asshole. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, kicking the thoughts out before he forces himself to knock before he actually backs down and goes home, suddenly glad he didn't drive so it's harder to give up and go home.

After about a minute, he knocks again. There's no evidence of movement from inside the house and Brooks looks to the driveway. No car. Fuck. It could be in the garage, and Marcus could be avoiding him, but he doesn't think so. Marcus isn't that kind of guy. Even if he were pissed, he'd at least tell it to Brooks' face to fuck off.

He knocks once more before turning around and slumping against the door to wait for Marcus. He wasn't the type to stay out all night, so there was a good chance he'd be there any time. Curling into his knees against his cold, bare chest, he leans his head into his arms. He is a complete utter fuck up. He can't even apologise and confess to the guy he won’t admit he loves. 

The tears that slip down, cold and wet, came as a surprise. The full out crying, however, was surprisingly expected. Curling closer into himself, he let his tears fall and his emotions go with them. He was always free to let out his anger, but right now, all he could do was cry.

The tears were cold as they hit his stomach, causing him to shiver slightly. He really wished Marcus would come home, or that he had the mental capacity to put on a shirt and sweater before he got the bright idea to show up, unannounced at Marcus' place. Unfortunately, he hadn't been equipped with this capacity and he was at the mercy of Marcus, who hopefully hadn't found some girl or something to take to a hotel for the night. 

With Brooks' luck, he probably did. Marcus was probably at some girl’s house, or some hotel fucking her silly. Kissing her everywhere and making her scream his name. The thought sent an unwelcome chill down his spine. Could he be falling for Marcus? What did that mean about his feelings for Mike? Surely they didn't just go away, right?

Not long after the tears stop coming, he gave up on Marcus coming home and let his eyes fall shut as he curls up on his side and he falls asleep. Probably not the brightest idea to sleep on an unfenced property of a team mates house, shirtless and puffy-cheeked where anyone could find him and jump to- the right- conclusions, ruining both their careers. 

However, Brooks wasn't one to make bright decisions, so sleep he did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (aka: A series of bad choices)

"You okay, son?" A woman's voice startled him awake. "Huh?" Brooks opened his eyes. "Are you alright, do you need any medical attention?" The woman repeated, backing away slowly. 

Brooks looked at her cautiously before shaking his head. "Did you see anyone come here? Young, dark hair?" Brooks asked, trying to not look so pathetic. The woman smiled at him sympathetically. "Sorry, no. Are you a friend of Marcus'?" she asked. 

Brooks sighed. "I'm on his team, but I don't think he's too happy with me right now," he answered.

"You're not wearing a shirt," the woman observed. "Do you want to come in, have some tea and get warmed up? You'll catch your death if you don't," she offered.

"That might not be such a bad thing," he muttered to himself. "I'm Joan," She said, extending her hand. Brooks just shook her hand. "Brooks," he said simply as he stood up. "You don't have to do anything, I should just go home," Brooks started.

"Nonsense. I recognise you from the team; you've been over here a couple times as well, right? Marcus is a good guy, so I have no problem helping you out. I can lend you a shirt as well- it's my husband's, not mine. He won't mind though," she offered, walking off the porch, taking Brooks with her. She seemed like a nice woman, late thirties, early forties. 

Her house was nice, but most importantly warm. She sat him down in her dining room while she put on the kettle and got him a shirt. He tried to tell her it wasn't necessary, all the while hoping she wouldn't listen. He really was cold.

She came back with a thick, long sleeved shirt about his size, a little bigger perhaps. It fit nicely though, and it was very warm. Brooks curled into it after putting it on while Joan got him some tea. 

"So, what were you doing outside all night anyway? It can't be the smartest thing to do, especially with no clothes on!" Joan said, giving him the cup. 

Brooks sniffed the peppermint beverage and took a sip before answering. "I don't really know why I stayed the night. I left in a bad mood, ended up walking from my place, which isn't too close. I was too tired to walk back, I guess. I thought he'd be home soon or I would've called a cab," Brooks said honestly.

"Oh, I wish I would've seen you last night. I would've called one for you, or let you stay here," Joan said, sympathetically. "Marcus is always such a good neighbour, it's the least I could've done," she added.

"Don't worry about me, I'll live," Brooks said, taking out his phone. Battery dead. "Hey, I'm sorry to ask, but could I use your phone? I still need to talk to him," he asked.

"No problem, it's in the other room," Joan said, pointing in the direction of the other room. Brooks thanked her before walking into that room. He dialed Marcus' phone first, but there was no luck. Possibly dead as well, if he stayed at a hotel last night. After that, he called a few other guys from the team, wondering if they'd heard from Marcus and probably seeming a little off by the sound of their reactions. Unfortunately, nobody could give him an answer.

His finger was about to dial his final option, but he hung up. He wouldn't call Mike. It would be horrible to call someone just to ask where the other man is, even if Mike wasn't going to be with him any time soon, or ever.

He sits in the room for a little longer, trying to rid his head of the pounding. Finally, he stood up and joined Joan once again. "Did you get to him?" she asked.

Brooks shook his head. "No, but I can try again some other time, once I get back and charge my phone. Thanks a lot, for everything," he answered.

"It's no problem, I assure you. I have sons too, you know. I wouldn't want one of mine staying outside all night," she explained. "I made some soup, I hope you'll have some," she says, bringing out some dishes.

"Oh, thank you, but I should really be going," Brooks tried. 

"Nonsense, eat and you can leave. I'm not letting you leave on an empty stomach, Mr. Laich," Joan said, almost raising her voice. Brooks nodded in defeat, having dealt with stubborn mothers in the past, he knew his best route was to shut up and eat.

The soup was good; it was hot and calmed his stomach. Lots of veggies and pasta in it, kind of like the food Alex's mother makes the team eat when she visits, but not as good. 

He eats in silence as Joan reads the paper. He wants to eat quickly and leave, but his stomach doesn't agree with this idea, so he slows down. He watched the clock as he ate, trying not to be too rude about it. She was being overly nice, but he had things to do.

When he was finished, he cleared his throat. "I'm done," he said simply, getting up and bringing his dishes to the sink. "I can clean these, if you want," he added. 

Joan laughed. "No worries, dear. You can leave now; I understand you've got better things to do than mope around here. I just didn't want to be the cause of you getting sick," she explained.

"Well, thank you so much for the food, letting me use your phone, and for the tea and shirt. I'll make sure to get it back to you. I can't believe I left without one," Brooks said, embarrassed.

"Oh, it's no problem. I'm happy to help," Joan asked. "I could call you a cab, if you'd like," she added.

"Um, actually. If it wouldn't be much trouble, that would be great," Brooks said. 

Brooks waited outside for the cab, giving the driver his address. His initial plan was to go home, change and find out where the hell Marcus was hiding out. About half way there, he told the driver to take him to Mike's place, giving him the address. 

He knew it would be awkward to show up at Mike's place, but Mike might know where Marcus is, and if he didn't he would at least keep Brooks sober enough to find Marcus. That was something Brooks needed to work on, he had to stop getting fucking wasted every time something didn't work out. He had to show Marcus he cared about him as well.

When he got out of the cab, he took a deep breath, knowing Mike might have heard about him and John by now. He probably had, John wasn't a quiet guy and he remembered something about John saying Mike put him up to it. If that was the case, it made things even worse.

He started to think maybe this wasn't a good idea; maybe Mike would be too mad at him for that. Before he could turn back and go home, his hand made contact with the door for a loud knock. Fuck.

Brooks was still planning on bolting when the door opened. "Brooks?" Mike asked, concerned over Brooks' appearance. "What the hell happened?"

Brooks paused for a second, trying to think of how to explain. "I'm a fuck up," Brooks started. "You are right, I'm so fucked up I don't know what to do. All you tried to do is help and I fucked Carlson and I didn't like it, I just didn't know what to do and now I've ruined everything. With Marcus, with you, Carlson, everybody fucking hates me and it's all my fault. And I waited all night to see Marcus but he never showed up, I slept on his porch all night and I didn't have a shirt and I just wanted to say sorry to him, I love him Mike! I'm sorry, but I do. I just... he's too good for me, but I fucking love him and now I fucked it up," Brooks whined as Mike stared at him, trying to understand what Brooks was saying.

"Brooks, listen. Calm down," Mike started. He was going to ask him to come in when he noticed Brooks stiffen. Mike looked over his shoulder and saw Marcus in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt which Mike let him borrow. Mike quickly looked back to Brooks, his face was red and it looked like he was about to either cry or kill someone. 

Brooks shook his head, not wanting to believe his eyes, but there it was. Mike was going to explain he asked Marcus and John to stay the night to talk things through and nothing happened, but Brooks wasn't hearing it. Tears were stinging his eyes and making their way down his face already. 

"Fuck you, Mike. Fuck you," Brooks said weakly and pushed him away. Mike took a step towards Brooks in effort to stop him from running away, but Brooks lunged forward and knocked him down with a closed fist. "Don't you fucking touch me, you traitor!" Brooks yelled. 

Marcus ran out after Brooks punched Mike, but Brooks just looked at him with sad eyes and stormed off. "What happened?" Marcus asked Mike, who was still on the ground, more in shock than pain. 

"I think Brooks though I slept with you," Mike said, holding his cheek. 

Marcus was visibly hurt by the statement. "I'm worried about him," Marcus said. "He knows you don't like guys, why would he think that? Because I stayed over?"

Mike shrugged. "He's just not in a good place right now. He smelled like booze, so for all we know, he was drunk. Just, don't take it personal, okay?" Mike said, getting up.

"How can I not take that personal? He thinks I'd sleep with someone else just to get him angry," Marcus asked.

"Maybe if you heard, he was saying he fucked up- with Carlson and everything, that he loves you and just didn't want to admit it. I think admitting that to me, it had him on edge and seeing you kind of set him off," Mike said, going back into the house.

"He said he loves me?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, he was worried he fucked things up and he was outside all night, waiting for you or something. I think he was asking for my help," Mike answered.

"And I fucked it up?" Marcus said.

"Don't do that to yourself, Marcus. You know Brooks; he'll come around if we talk to him, right?" Mike assured.

Marcus sighed "I hope so,"

"Mike, god, what happened?" John said, looking at the shiner on Mike's face. 

"Brooks thinks I slept with Marcus. He came to tell me about you, and that he was sorry and in love with Marcus- who showed up in my sweats," Mike explained.

"So he punched you?" John asked.

"It's nothing. We just need to tell him what really happened and try to get him better. He's clearly not thinking straight," Mike said.

"How do we find him? What if he's not at his place?" Marcus asked, worried.

"We look around. He probably went to his place though, hopefully not a bar," Mike said. "Either way, we should get dressed and go look, I don't like the idea of waiting, he seemed pretty angry."

The three of them left together, taking Mike's car. They got to Brooks' place to find his truck in the driveway, however their knocking went unanswered.

"I guess he's not here," Mike said after one final knock.

"What now? Either of you know where he likes to go?" John asked.

"Not really. Front page or one of the other places, but I don't know if he'd go there if he wanted to get away from us," Mike said.

"I guess we just have to look around. I know some places he might go, but I'm not sure. We should stay together though," Marcus said. 

The three headed out, checking around some bars that Brooks might have gone to, but they came up with nothing. Brooks was nowhere. They resorted to calling around, but again, nobody knows where he was. 

"What are we going to do?" Marcus asked. 

"Can either of you think of anywhere else he'd go?" John replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Kettler?" Marcus said after a couple seconds. "He usually pushes himself hard to work out when he's upset, right? I mean, not lately, but he could be there. He's nowhere else."

"Why not, it's somewhere he'd never expect us to go without needing it," John said, looking to Mike. 

When did he become the leader, Mike thought to himself as the two looked to him for his opinion. "Yeah, sounds good," he said, heading back to the car.

\---- ----- ----

When they got to Kettler, the lights were on. It was a good sign that Brooks was probably there and they all felt a little bit better as they approached the change room. 

His stuff was there, but he was not. Not surprising, it had been about an hour or two that they'd been looking for him. "So, he's here. Now we just have to find him," John said, looking around.

"Well, we can check the ice, the weight room," Mike offered. They followed Mike to the rink, but it was empty and untouched, so they went up to the weight room, where he usually spent his spare time. Especially when he was in a bad mood, which for right now was an understatement. 

They don't find him right away because the room looks empty, he's not on any of the equipment. Mike was about to say something until Marcus yelled out. "Oh my god, Mike!" he called, running towards a shaking and jerking Brooks on the floor.

"Is he conscious?" John asked, glued to the floor beside Mike as they watched Marcus.

"I think he's having a seizure, call 911," he said, taking off his sweater and placing it under Brooks' head.

Mike quickly pulled his phone out, calling for an ambulance and John and Marcus sat by Brooks, keeping an eye on him. "What do we do now?" John asked when Mike got off the phone.

"Should we call Bruce or McPhee?" Marcus asked. "Or wait for the ambulance?"

"What if he hit his head or something, should we check for blood or something?" John added.

Mike didn't know what to say, he'd never been in a situation like this before and it was Brooks. "Alright, I'll call Bruce and McPhee, you two carefully check if there's any blood or anything," Mike said after a minute of thinking.

He walked over to the side and dialed McPhee's number. He was usually good to talk to in times of stress, and this was a pretty stressful time.

The call didn't do much to calm Mike down or help them out. He said he'd call Bruce for them, and told Mike to gently get Brooks on his side and keep away from anything that could hurt him. So, not much help, but he said he'd meet them at the hospital.

"He's burning up," John said after Mike hung up. "And he threw up, but it landed on the floor. It doesn't sound like he's choking or anything," he added.

As they waited, they kept an eye on Brooks. Mike watched his chest nervously as rapid intakes of breath occurred sporadically between pauses. "Its okay, Brooks, you're okay," Marcus started in a calming voice. "Just be calm, you'll pull through this," he continued. John looked at Mike with a worried look, but Mike just looked at Brooks. Marcus had tears in his eyes as he watched Brooks. 

He was no longer convulsing, but the tension in his muscles made Mike keep close attention. The paramedics arrived shortly after. Two of them quickly got him on a stretcher, while a third questioned Mike on the situation. Mike told him about the drinking, the fighting, staying out all night. The sex. After all was said and done, Marcus went with the ambulance while Mike and John followed behind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (aka: A series of bad choices)

When they got to the hospital, Marcus was sitting wide-eyed and pale as ever. "He woke up and started throwing up again and then passed out again," Marcus said softly. "They took him away," he added.

Mike sat down beside Marcus and hugged him, rubbing his back. "I know it's scary, but it's Brooks. He'll be okay," Mike tried, doing little to calm either of them down. 

A few minutes later, Bruce and McPhee came walking into the doors. "Mike, guys. What's going on? What happened to Brooks?" McPhee asked. 

"We don't know yet," Mike started. "We went to Kettler to find him and he was on the ground," he said. 

"We don't know why or how long before we got there, either," John added.

"Well, what the fuck happened before that? You were obviously looking for him for a reason, now what the fuck has been going on with you four lately?" Bruce demanded.

The three of them stayed silent for a moment, thinking of what to say. The truth would basically out three of them, which wasn't very appealing, but probably needed.

Which is why Marcus sighed as he began to explain everything. From Brooks coming on to Mike the first night, to Brooks sleeping with him and John, all the freak outs from then on, including him running off. 

"We think he's been drinking a lot lately and that's maybe what's wrong," John added.

"Jesus fuck," Bruce swore, pacing back and forth.

"So, this started with you," McPhee said, pointing to Mike. "Then he slept with you," he moved to Marcus. "Twice?"

"Three," Marcus corrected.

"And then what happened?"

"He thought he was in love with Mike, but then he came to tell Mike he actually likes me, but he saw me at Mike's and jumped to the wrong conclusion," Marcus explained.

"And how exactly did you get involved?" McPhee asked John.

"Things happened, I slept with Brooks, called him an asshole and told him to smarten up with Marcus," John admitted.

"So, Marcus and Brooks are," McPhee started, allowing a blank to be filled.

"I don't know," Marcus said. 

"But you want to?"

"Yes," Marcus lowered his head.

"Alright, well. Let's see what we can find out from the doctors," McPhee said, patting Marcus on the shoulder.

As if on cue, a doctor came out of Brooks' room. He was a little reluctant to talk, but McPhee explained the situation and he agreed to see them in a separat room.

"So, Mr. Laich's condition is stable, but he's not awake and we don't know the exact extent of his condition. There are minimal signs of trauma, initial scans were clear and only a few bruises," the doctor explained.

"What does that mean, the scans were clear? What's wrong with him?" Marcus asked.

"Well, as you had mentioned his drinking recently has been above average, that probably has something to do with it. There are also other factors to take in consideration, such as lack of sleep, stress," the doctor explained. He paused, looking through some papers. "His alcohol content was way above the legal limit, almost .20, which is dangerously high for even the healthiest person. Dark circles, he probably hasn't been sleeping too well. By all accounts, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. We're going to run some more tests, just to make sure he's alright and rule out any other possibilities and damage," he explained.

"So, he's going to be okay?" Mike asked. 

"It seems like he'll be okay. We'll know more after the tests and once he wakes up," the doctor answered. "We're going to keep him over night, possibly more to make sure his system is clear," he continued. "In the mean time, I suggest you all go home and get some sleep, continue on with your day. I'll be in touch with Mr. McPhee on his condition if anything changes."

"Thank you, doctor," McPhee said, allowing the doctor to get back to work.

"He's right, you three should go home, do whatever. No practice today, for obvious reasons. We'll start late tomorrow. I'll call you immediately when I hear something," McPhee explained.

"You guys are welcome to stay at my place, I don't think I'll be sleeping much, but that way we can all find out right away," Mike suggested to John and Marcus.

The two agreed, though Marcus didn't like the idea of leaving Brooks alone. After heading to Mike's house, nobody really talks. They just sit, slouching, thinking. It's not healthy, but none of them want to talk. 

Mike eventually speaks up, telling Marcus and John there are two guest rooms for them. Neither budge. In the end, all three are sitting about Mike's living room, staring at the TV with blank faces, trying not to watch the phone.

"Do you guys want anything to eat? I can make something, order out?" Mike tried again. John looks up, like he wants to agree, but he doesn't. 

Mike ordered them food, even though he didn't think anyone would eat anything. He just needed to do something.

A few hours later, all three were staring at the clock, watching the hands tick away while they waited for the phone to ring. There was no guarantee it would be good news either, but not knowing anything was driving them crazy.

Finally, a little after nine, the phone rang. All three jumped, Mike grabbed the phone. "Hello?" he answered.

"Is everyone with you still?" McPhee asked.

"Yeah, John and Marcus," Mike answered.

"Brooks woke up, but he's in rough shape and was having trouble remembering some things. He didn't know how he got here, or what happened. The doctor said it's not permanent and he'd likely remember within a day or two. If you guys wanted to come see him, he'll probably be awake soon," McPhee explained.

"Oh my god," Mike said with a slight pause. "Alright, I'll tell them. We'll be there soon," Mike said, hanging up.

"What'd he say? How's Brooks?" Marcus asked.

"He's in rough shape, McPhee said he couldn't remember everything, but he'll get it back in a couple days. We can go see him though," Mike answered.

After Mike explained, they went straight to the hospital. Bruce told them he was going in and out of sleep, and reminded them that he was in rough shape and didn't remember a whole lot. 

They were on their way in when Marcus froze. "What's wrong?" John asked.

"What if he doesn't want to see me?" Marcus asked. "He's basically here because of me, what if he remembers and hates me?"

"He'd never hate you, and I can only guess he'd want anyone who isn't Bruce or McPhee to visit him," John said with a bit of a laugh.

"But what do we say? He can't remember what happened, do we not mention it?" Marcus asked.

"I don't know, we'll just have to see," Mike answered. After that, the three of them walked into Brooks' room, but he was still asleep so they sat beside him.

"He looks like shit," John joked.

Brooks started to shift a little before he opened his eyes. "Not that you look any better," he said weakly. 

"Brooks, how're you feeling?" Mike said, shoving John a little.

"Feel like shit. George said I had a seizure, that you guys found me," Brooks said. "Thanks, guys," he added with a guilty look. 

"Do you remember what happened the past few weeks?" Mike asked.

Brooks shook his head, still looking guilty. "I wish I did. The doctor said I'll probably get my memory back, but I honestly can't think of anything I did. It's vague and blurry, what I do remember," he answered. "I remember the hotel, drinking and being an idiot. Little things, but I don't know what happened."

"Well, you've been through a lot," John said.

"I wish I could remember. I mean, was I really that bad? Did I hit my head?" Brooks asked.

"No. At least, we don't think so. You were going through a rough time, personally. I think you were drinking quite a bit as well," Mike answered, patting Brooks on the shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Brooks asked Marcus, who noticeably hadn't said anything. 

Marcus nodded. "Of course, I'm just a little shaken up, I guess," he said. Mike gave him a worried look, but didn't say anything. Brooks seemed to accept the answer.

"I'm sorry about that. I guess it would've been pretty scary, I can't imagine. What was I doing there, anyway?" Brooks asked.

 

"You really don't remember anything?" Marcus said with a bitter tone.

Brooks looked confused as he answered. "No, why? What did I do?" he asked, looking to all three of them.

"Can I talk to Marcus for a second?" Mike asked, pulling Marcus outside the room for a minute. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What? I'm not allowed to be sceptical that he's faking to get out of being a dick to everyone?" Marcus asked.

"It's Brooks," Mike defended.

"Two weeks ago, would you have said Brooks would be capable of using sleeping with teammates to make you jealous? I wouldn't have, so he's obviously more capable than we though, why wouldn't he be able to pretend he can't remember?" Marcus bit back.

"Is that what you really believe, or do you just want to be mad at him because you're afraid?" Mike asked.

Marcus glared at him, but didn't answer. "Why are you so quick to forgive and forget?" he asked.

"I haven't forgotten. And I still think he was a dick, which I'll call him on when he remembers, but for now I just want him to get better," Mike replied.

Marcus sighed, looking slightly beat down. "I guess you're right. I just don't know, you know? I don't want to get hurt again."

Mike threw his arm around Marus' shoulders. "I can't promise anything, but if you talk to him when he's better you might be able to work something out, no?"

"I don't know," Marcus answered. 

They went back into the room and Marcus held back his tone. They were there for Brooks to get better, not beat him when he's down.

The next afternoon, Brooks was released. He was given medication to keep taking, and given a number for a psychiatrist in case he needed to talk to someone. He was to be in company of a trusted friend, to keep him from drinking. After Brooks said he trusted Mike more than anyone, it left a bit of a bitter taste in both Mike and Marcus' mouths, but they said nothing.

Brooks went home with Mike and Marcus went home, wondering how someone could forget whole feelings and events so simply. For someone who had just said they loved someone else, Brooks seemed pretty empty to the fact. 

There was no denying that it hurt that he choose Mike. If he really can't remember, it would only make sense though. They hung out a lot, but Marcus and Brooks weren't close, so why would he pick Marcus over Mike?

Marcus grabs a beer and sits on his couch, wondering if, since he can't remember his feelings for Marcus, does Brooks think he loves Mike?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (aka: A series of bad choices)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long hiatus, I bring you and update.

Mike set Brooks up in his guest room and let him sleep the rest of the day, as advised by the doctor. He also couldn’t help looking in on him once or twice. It was hard to believe he didn’t remember anything, especially since he seemed so hurt by Mike and felt so strongly about Marcus. 

While Mike waited up a little longer, he googled seizures and memory loss, trying to find out more on Brooks’ condition. Shortly after reading an article on regaining memories from a traumatic event, Brooks started screaming.

Mike ran into the room to find Brooks curled up on the bed, head grasped in his hands, pained expression on his face to go with the screaming. “Brooks, are you okay?” Mike asked, rushing to his side.

“My head!” Brooks shouted. “I feel it, see it,” he added, cutting off into another pained groan.

“I’ll go call the doctor, okay?” Mike assured him before leaving. 

He dialed the number left to him and told the doctor what was happening. Dr. Jameson seemed interested, but not overly surprised. “Sometimes, when memories come back after an event like the one he had, it’s not a pretty feeling. Especially if there were physical memories, they might come back in a way that’s painful or uncomfortable for the body,” Dr. James explained. “If you would like to bring him in and make sure that’s what is happening, be my guest.”

When Mike got off the phone, he looked back in on Brooks, who had started to cry. “Dr. James said you can come in if you want, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I punched you.” 

“Do you remember why?” Mike asked. 

“I like Marcus?” Brooks answered unsurely. 

“According to you, you love him,” Mike said. “That’s what you said before you punched me.”

“I’m sorry.” Brooks said. “I don’t know why I did it, any of it. I was so fucked up I don’t-“ he paused. “Does he hate me?”

“He’s worried about you, worried you don’t like him and worried you’ll hurt him again,” Mike said honestly. It hurt to tell his best friend that, but he needed to be honest. 

“I used sex as a drug. I slept with him to get back at you and slept with John for god knows what reason. I don’t know why he’d forgive me.” Brooks said.

“Are you sorry?” Mike asked.

“More than I’ve ever been in my life.” Brooks answered. “Do you love him?” Mike asked, getting a nod. Brooks looked up, into Mike’s eyes and Mike could see he wasn’t lying. He could see the raw fear in his eyes. 

“Get some rest,” Mike said. “I don’t want you to get upset. We can see Marcus tomorrow at practice, okay?”

“Practice?” Brooks asked.

“The rest of the team still has to play, you can watch. We’re not supposed to leave you alone in case you have another seizure,” Mike said, leaving out the suicide watch part. 

Brooks sighed and rested his head on his pillow. “Thanks for taking care of me,” he said as his eyes closed and he fell asleep. 

Mike stayed for a couple minutes, watching Brooks sleep. It was rare to see him this relaxed, so he wanted to take it in before he got back to the real world. 

Mike decided to call Marcus and give him a heads up on Brooks, let him know he remembers what happened. Mike thinks about not telling Marcus about what Brooks said, but he couldn’t help it. Brooks was sure about his feelings and Marcus needed to know that. 

“He said he loves me?” Marcus asked. 

“He said he liked you, and I reminded him that he said he loved you and I think that brought him back as well. He told me he loved you, I could see it in his eyes. He was so sorry about everything he’s done, and I believe him.”

“What should I do?” Marcus asked. “Should I take him back if he asks?”

“Do you think you can forgive him, get past everything he did?” Mike asked. Marcus didn’t answer for a couple seconds, so Mike continued, “Do you love him?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

When Mike arrived at practice with Brooks, the locker room went silent. “So much for acting like normal guys,” Carlson rolled his eyes. “How’s it going?” he turned to Brooks.

“I feel like shit, and you?” Brooks smiled. Marcus sat in the corner, watching Brooks and adoring his smile. It had been a long time since he’d seen it not look filled with anger or sorrow. And then Brooks saw him.

Brooks smiled again, but it wasn’t the same. It was cautious and worried when he smiled at Marcus. Before he could make his way over and say anything, Bruce called practice and they headed to the ice, Brooks taking a spot in the stands.

After practice, Marcus was waiting to talk to Brooks when the trainer wanted to speak to him in his office. Marcus sighed and followed, leaving the dressing room just as Brooks came in from the rink with Mike.

Brooks looked around, seeing that Marcus left and looked to Mike. “You sure he forgives me?” Brooks asked, walking off to the parking lot to wait for Mike. He wasn’t really in to speaking to anyone right then.

“You see Marcus?” Mike asked Karl, who shrugged. “With the trainer, I think,” he answered. “Why?”

“Nothing, just a misunderstanding.” Mike answered. After getting dressed, Marcus still wasn’t out, so Mike decided to leave and call him later. He didn’t want Brooks alone for too long.

____________________

 

When they got to Mike’s house, Brooks flops down on the couch with a loud sigh. “He hates me.”

“Marcus doesn’t hate you, Brooks. The trainer wanted to talk to him,” Mike informed.

“You believe that? He probably paid the trainer to say that in front of everybody so he could get away from me. Did you see how he looked when I came into the room?” Brooks asked. “He looked annoyed that I would even show up.”

“Or he looked scared because he doesn’t know what he wants right now.”

“Oh great, I scare him. Like that’s so much better, Mike.” Brooks scolded

“Can you blame him though? He just had his heart broken by you twice. Granted the seizure wasn’t planned, but he thought you were going to die, Brooks. That isn’t an easy thing to deal with, give him some time.”

“Yeah, but how much time?” Brooks sighed, slinking back in the couch.  Just then, the phone rang, making Brooks jump as Mike picked up.

Brooks waited as Mike talked, not saying anything descriptive. A few ‘Okay’, ‘yes’ and ‘good’ answers which hardly gave him an idea of who was on the other line. Not until Mike hung up and put the phone down. “Marcus is coming over.”

“Now? What do I say to him?” Brooks asked.

“Say what you mean, man. Don’t force something fake, he’ll know. Any uncertainty you have, you tell him because he deserves that much,” Mike said. Brooks nodded silently and looked up at the clock. What uncertainties did he have? A lot, if he was honest.

While Brooks waited for Marcus to arrive, he wrote down some things he knew he wouldn’t say out loud. Some things that would bother him, but he wouldn’t have the nerve to mention. Mike was right, Marcus deserved better than half-truths.

He also wrote the good things, for balance. Good things, some that he would be too afraid to mention aloud. Things like how Marcus makes him warm and happy with just the thought of his name. How kisses make his toes tingle slightly, unlike with anyone else.

Things that Brooks hadn’t been able to admit to himself until writing it down, that made Brooks remember his feelings toward Marcus were stronger than those for Mike. Another thing he wrote down.

A knock at the door and he was there.

“I’m sorry,” Brooks said, showing himself to the door. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you’ll consider it.”

Marcus smiled. “No, you don’t. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t thought, would I?”

“No, I guess not,” Brooks answered. “I wanted to be honest with you. About what I want, what I fear,” he started. “It’s stupid, but Mike said you deserve to know how I feel and I know some of these things need to be known, but I won’t have the guts to say them,” he finished, handing a paper to Marcus.

Marcus smiled, reading the paper. It was cute that Brooks made a list of “Good thoughts and bad thoughts” for him to look over. Probably something he learned or was advised at therapy, Marcus thought.

Some of the things were kind of concerning, but Marcus hoped it wouldn’t cause any trouble for them. _I feel guilty and stupid for what I let happen_ made Marcus a little nervous because guilt is what started the spiral.  A lot of the negatives were negative towards Brooks and they would have to talk about that together. “Brooks,” he started.

“I know it’s stupid, but I’m sorry it’s what I had to do. I know some things on there are dumb, but it’s how I feel, alright?” Brooks defended himself. Both Mike and Marcus stared for a moment, until Brooks spoke again. “Please stop looking at me like I’m an idiot. I know I made mistakes, but I’m sorry and I’m trying to change, alright?” he accused.

Marcus took a step back and looked to Mike. “Brooks, did you take your pills this afternoon?” Mike asked.

Brooks rolled his eyes at Mike’s comment. “So, what? I’m not allowed to have my own opinions? I have to be off my rocker because I have a thought? How is that fair?” he scolded.

“Calm down, Brooks. We didn’t mean it that way. We’re just worried about you, you’re getting hostile again.” Marcus spoke up. Brooks’ eyes softened a little, and then he started swearing and cursing himself. “Brooks, it’s okay. Just take them now,” Marcus suggested.

Brooks just looked at him and shook his head before walking out the door on his own. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooks gets drunk and confronts Mike about his feelings and what happens after. (Aka: A series of bad choices)

By the time Mike and Marcus got outside, Brooks and his truck were gone, leaving little good feelings left in the situation at hand. This isn’t unlike what happened before Brooks’ seizure, only he thought this was an attack on his sanity, not his love life.

“Now I’m really worried,” Marcus said, looking to Mike for an answer he wouldn’t have. “Should we call the team?”

“I guess we’ll have to,” Mike shrugged. “I’ll start with Alex, you try Sasha?” he added, pulling out his phone.

After calling around, trying to find who might know where Brooks was, they turned up with nothing. They called bars, clubs, everywhere they could think he would go and still no sign of him. They even checked out Kettler and VC. 

“I give up, man,” Mike sighed. “Brooks obviously doesn’t want to be found so there’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m worried about him, Mike. I shouldn’t have come to see him, it just stirred things up for the worse,” Marcus said, resting his head in his hands. “Why won’t he just listen to what we’re trying to say?”

Mike put his arm around Marcus and slowly rubbed his back. “We don’t know he’s done something stupid, alright? He could be out golfing or something.”

“Golfing?” Marcus snapped. “You think he just stormed out to go golfing?”

“No, I mean he was angry, yes, but he’s on medication now. It doesn’t mean he did something stupid like drank himself half to death, alright?” Mike defended.

“Well I hope not, but why can’t we find him?” Marcus asked. He really didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless to begin with.

“Maybe go back to your place and wait, he might turn up there. I’ll go back to my place, too.” Mike suggested.

Marcus agreed, heading back to his house. Hopefully he could get some sleep, but he doubted he was capable of sleep at this point.

 ---------------------

 

When Marcus woke up, it was to his door slamming. “Brooks?” He yawned.

“Yeah. Mike said I should come here. I wanted to though,” Brooks answered. “I need to talk to you, like a human being.”

“Mind if I have a coffee first?” Marcus asked. “I’m not good with personal shit when I just wake up,” he continued, sparing manners.

“No problem. I’ll even let you get dressed,” Brooks answered, sitting on the couch opposite to Marcus. “Why’d you sleep on the couch?”

“Waiting for the phone.” Marcus answered. He came back into the room, coffee in hand. “Where were you last night?”

“Still tonight,” Brooks pointed out. “I went to see my counselor, Victoria. She’s nice, helps me think things through more than I can for myself right now. I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I was scared.”

“You went to your counselor when you left Mike’s place?”

“Yeah, I should’ve said something, but-“ Brooks tried, but Marcus cut him off. “It’s okay, Brooks. I understand. We were just worried about you.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Brooks asked.

Marcus shrugged. “How can I be mad that you were trying to get help? I’m glad you came to see me though.”

“Mike told me you were upset and I started to get angry, until he told me to just come see you and explain everything,” Brooks explained. “I’m still sorry I upset you. I just, I didn’t want to freak out like I did before, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“I just didn’t want something bad to happen to you, you know? I wasn’t mad or anything, I was worried.”

“Well, my counselor has been helping me a lot. I’ve been feeling a lot better and things are a lot clearer for me now,” Brooks said. “I’m not ashamed to say I’m gay anymore. Not like, I’m ready to come out or anything, but she helped me realize that being gay isn’t a bad thing, it’s just who I am.”

“I’m glad she’s helping you, Brooks. Especially with feeling comfortable because you should feel comfortable with who you are.”

“Marcus, I want to ask you something,” Brooks started, “I know this is probably a bad time, but I wanted to know if you thought there’s a possibility we could give a relationship a try again?”

Marcus bit his lip as he watched Brooks. What is he supposed to say? On one hand, yeah, he’d love to give it another try. On the other, if it didn’t work out, it would be bad for Brooks. He seemed better though, than he had been before.

“Okay. I understand,” Brooks started, nodding his head. He started to turn around, but Marcus stopped him. “No, Brooks. I- I want to try.”

“You do?” Brooks asked, skeptical. “Not just because you think I’m going to break apart if you don’t?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, I want to try because I still have feelings for you and we deserve another shot. Things didn’t start well, let alone end well last time. We deserve to have a fresh start, a better start, right?”

“So, like a date?” Brooks asked. “Food, movie?”

Marcus laughed. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Sex?”

Marcus bit his lip again. “Brooks,”

“I was just asking. It’s okay if you want to take it slow. It would probably be better anyway, wouldn’t it?” Brooks said.

“It’s an idea,” Marcus agreed.

Brooks sighed, relieved as he got into his car. Once he was honest with himself, he really saw how much Marcus meant to him. It just took him a while to convince himself it was a good idea. They are still hockey players, there is still the age gap, but it wasn’t so bad because they had feelings for each other and he was determined not to fuck this up again.


End file.
